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PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


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ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND 
DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Procession  of  Corpus  Christi  in  the  Plaza  de  Armas,  Cuzco.  The  Church  at  the  Left  is  the  Cathedral. 


FOLLOWING  THE  CON QUIST ADORES 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND 
DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

BY 

H.  J.  MOZANS,  A.M.,  Ph.D. 

AUTHOR  OF  “UP  THE  ORINOCO  AND  DOWN  THE  MAGDALENA” 

[jvT.  f\  ,%~C\r\rx\ 

-J 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 
EX-PRESIDENT  THEODORE  ROOSEVELT 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 
1912 


Copyright,  1911,  by 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


Published  June,  1911 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


TO 

MY  FRIEND 
OF  MANY  YEARS 

CHARLES  M.  SCHWAB 

IN  TOKEN  OF 

ADMIRATION  AND  AFFECTION 


Xll 


“The  exploits  of  the  eonquistadores  of  America  were  so  stupendous,  so 
fabulous,  that  no  epic  could  do  them  justice,  no  narrative,  however  faith- 
ful, complete  or  masterly,  could  portray  the  reality.  It  is  necessary  to  have 
been  born  and  to  have  lived  a long  time  in  America  and  to  know  the  Andes, 
the  deserts,  the  forests,  the  rivers,  the  morasses,  the  coasts,  the  climates, 
of  this  part  of  the  world,  where  everything  is  colossal;  to  compare  the  formid- 
able obstacles,  which  still  exist,  with  the  far  greater  ones  overcome  by  the 
Spaniards,  in  order  to  form  an  adequate  idea  of  the  prodigious  daring,  hero- 
ism and  inflexibility  of  the  eonquistadores.  All  the  impetuosity  of  the  con- 
queror of  the  Moor,  the  indomitable  tenacity  of  the  Arragonese,  the  patient 
and  silent  constancy  of  the  Castilian,  who  fought  and  died  with  a jest  on  his 
lips,  the  vehement  curiosity  and  passion  of  the  Andalusian,  the  cold  and 
calculating  perseverance  of  the  Catalonian  and  the  Basque,  were  exhibited  in 
that  struggle  of  a handful  of  Titans  engaged  in  the  conquest  of  a world 
of  exuberant  heat  and  life,  force  and  majesty,  riches  and  population,  novelty 
and  marvels.  ...  In  that  epoch  all  was  great,  the  good  and  the  bad, 
iniquity  and  virtue,  force  and  resistance,  but  the  greatness  of  force  was  in 
man  while  that  of  resistance  was  in  nature.”  Jos<§  M.  Samper,  Ensayo  sobre 
las  Revoluciones,  Cap.  I. 


vn 


INTRODUCTION 


This  book  is,  in  a sense,  the  sequel  of  a book  by  the  same  author 
entitled  Folloiving  the  Conquistador es  up  the  Orinoco  and  down 
the  Magdalena. 

Shortly  after  returning  from  this  trip  along  the  Orinoco  and  the 
Magdalena,  Doctor  Mozans  called  upon  me,  and  we  soon  grew  to  be 
great  friends.  He  is  a devoted  student  of  Dante,  and  I am  one  of 
the  innumerable  laymen  who  greatly  admire  Dante  without  having 
even  the  slightest  pretensions  to  having  studied  him.  I think  that  the 
intimacy  of  Doctor  Mozans  and  myself  was  largely  due  to  his  find- 
ing out  the  interest  I had  taken  in  translating,  so  to  speak,  Dante ’s 
political  terminology  into  that  of  the  present  day, — for  Dante  wrote 
with  a lack  of  self-consciousness  which  we  could  not  nowadays 
achieve,  and  so,  in  perfect  good  faith,  and  I may  add  with  entire 
propriety,  illustrated  the  fundamental  vices  and  virtues  by  plac- 
ing in  hell  and  purgatory  the  local  Italian  political  leaders  of  the 
thirteenth  century  side  by  side  with  the  mightiest  figures  of  the 
elder  world,  the  world  of  Greece  and  Rome  at  their  zenith.  I had 
remarked  to  Doctor  Mozans  that  this  attitude,  which  added  so 
enormously  to  the  power  of  Dante,  was  one  which  we  were  now 
too  self-conscious  to  follow ; that,  whereas  it  seemed  perfectly  nat- 
ural to  Dante  to  typify  the  same  fierce  and  stubborn  soul  qualities 
both  in  the  person  of  Farinata  and  in  the  person  of  Capanius,  and 
to  appeal  to  a Florentine  faction  fight  as  he  did  to  the  memory  of 
the  stupendous  wars  which  made  Rome  imperial,  it  would  now  be 
quite  impossible  for  us  to  avoid  feeling,  and  therefore  conveying, 
a sense  of  incongruity  if  we  coupled  a feast  of  Lucullus  with  some 
equally  tasteless  banquet  by  a member  of  the  Four  Hundred,  or 
spoke  in  the  same  breath  of  Clodio  and  Isaiah  Rynders  or  John 
Morrissey. 

The  acquaintance  thus  begun  went  on,  and  when  I was  about 
to  leave  the  White  House,  Doctor  Mozans  proposed  that  I should 
make  a South  American  trip  with  him,  instead  of  my  proposed  trip 
to  Africa.  I should  have  been  exceedingly  pleased  to  have  done 
both ; but  as  my  trip  was  to  be  taken  primarily  as  a naturalist  in- 

i-X 


INTRODUCTION 


terested  in  the  great  game,  I thought  it  best  not  to  change  my  point 
of  destination — and  the  comments  Doctor  Mozans  makes  upon  the 
rarity  and  shyness  of  all  large  animals  in  the  tropical  forests  of 
South  America  show  that  I was  wise.  But  Doctor  Mozans  would 
have  been  an  ideal  traveling  companion.  His  trip  was  one  of 
absorbing  interest,  and  it  is  told  so  delightfully  that  I do  not  now 
recall  any  similar  book  dealing  with  South  America  so  well  worth 
reading. 

Doctor  Mozans  has  every  qualification  for  making  just  such  a 
journey  as  he  made,  and  then  for  writing  about  it.  He  is  an 
extraordinarily  hardy  man,  this  gentle,  quiet  traveler.  He  has  that 
sweetness  of  nature  which  inspires  in  others  the  same  good  feeling 
he  himself  evinces  towards  them ; he  loves  rivers  and  forests,  moun- 
tains and  plains,  and  broad  highways  and  dim  wood  trails ; and  he 
has  a wide  and  intimate  acquaintance  with  science,  with  history, 
and,  above  all,  with  literature.  This  volume  supplements  his  pre- 
vious volume,  giving  his  journey  across  the  Andes  from  the  West 
Coast  and  his  voyage  down  the  Amazon ; so  that  he  has  seen  all 
that  is  most  characteristic,  and  to  the  traveler  most  attractive,  in 
tropical  America,  from  the  barren  Andean  plateaus,  filled  with 
the  ruins  of  a dead  civilization  almost  as  ancient  and  interesting 
as  that  of  Egypt  or  Mesopotamia,  to  the  hot,  steamy,  water-soaked 
forests  which  cover  the  middle  and  the  northeast  of  the  Southern 
continent.  We  are  fortunate  in  having  a man  like  Doctor  Mozans 
traveling  in  the  lands  to  the  south  of  us.  He  speaks  with  just 
admiration  of  the  great  work  done  by  Secretary  Root,  when,  in  an 
American  warship,  he  circled  the  Southern  continent,  representing 
our  country  as  an  ambassador  whose  work  was  of  highest  moment. 
But  Doctor  Mozans  himself  also  really  acted  as  such  an  ambassador ; 
and  his  sympathy  with,  and  appreciation  of,  the  people  whom  he 
met — a sympathy  and  appreciation  evident  in  page  after  page 
of  his  book — earned  for  him  thoughtful  and  unwearied  kindness 
in  return,  and  admirably  fitted  him,  while  on  his  journey,  to  in- 
terpret our  nation  to  those  among  whom  he  traveled,  and  now 
admirably  fit  him  to  interpret  them  in  return  to  us. 

Taste  in  books  is  highly  individual,  and  long  experience  has 
shown  me  that  I sometimes  greatly  like  books  for  which  most  of  my 
friends  care  not  at  all ; but  it  does  seem  to  me  that  it  would  be 
difficult  for  any  man  to  rise  from  reading  Doctor  Mozan’s  books 
without  feeling,  not  only  that  he  has  passed  a delightful  time,  but 


x 


INTRODUCTION 


also  that  he  has  profited  greatly  by  the  vivid  picture  presented  to 
him  of  our  neighbors  to  the  south  and  their  marvelous  country. 
As  Americans,  his  studies  of  these  neighbors  of  ours  are  of  peculiar 
value  to  us.  Moreover,  Doctor  Mozans’  literary  tastes  and  in  par- 
ticular his  great  fondness  for  the  poetry  of  many  different  tongues 
stand  him  in  good  stead.  It  is  pleasant  to  travel  in  company  with 
one  who  knows  books  as  well  as  men  and  manners,  and  who  yet 
cares  also  for  all  that  is  beautiful  and  terrible  and  grand  in  Nature. 
German,  Italian,  Spanish,  English — there  is  hardly  a favorite  poet, 
writing  in  any  language,  whose  words  do  not  naturally  rise  to 
Doctor  Mozans’  mind  as  he  comes  to  some  particular  scene  which 
he  thinks  that  some  particular  passage  in  some  of  his  beloved 
authors  aptly  illustrates ; and  his  quotations  from  the  South  Amer- 
ican poets  are  not  only  apt  in  themselves,  but  illuminative  to  those 
among  us  who  do  not  realize  how  very  far  South  American  civiliza- 
tion has  gone  along  certain  lines  where  our  own  progress  has  been 
by  no  means  well  marked.  In  particular,  the  translations  that 
the  author  gives  us  of  some  of  the  simple  Indian  ballads  make  us 
wish  that  we  could  have  these  ballads  all  set  forth  in  popular  form ; 
while  Doctor  Mozans’  humorous  appreciation  of  the  excesses  into 
which  the  poetic  habit  sometimes  misleads  his  South  American 
friends  completely  reassures  us  as  to  his  coolness  of  judgment. 

We  are  far  from  realizing  all  that  of  recent  years  has  been  ac- 
complished in  South  America.  We  are  now  fairly  well  acquainted 
with  the  great  material  advances  that  have  been  made  in  Chile 
and  the  Argentine,  with  the  growth  along  cosmopolitan  lines  of 
cities  like  Buenos  Ayres  and  Rio  de  Janiero.  But  Doctor  Mozans 
quite  incidentally  makes  us  understand  the  charm  of  the  older  and 
more  typical  Spanish-American  cities,  and  brings  to  the  attention 
of  our  people  the  extraordinary  quantity  of  serious  work  in  scholar- 
ship which  has  been  achieved  in  the  universities  of  these  cities 
during  the  centuries  immediately  past;  and  he  also  shows  how  the 
forces  of  modern  life  are  now  vivifying  this  charming  social, 
ancient  life,  which  has  so  long  been  held  back  and  perverted  into 
wrong  channels.  The  book  ought  to  make  our  people  understand 
and  appreciate  far  better  than  at  present  the  South  American  na- 
tions which  he  visited,  and  the  high  and  fine  qualities  of  whose 
peoples  he  sketches  so  vividly. 

Nor  is  it  only  in  describing  the  scholars  and  gentlefolk  of  these 
countries  and  their  achievements  in  the  past,  and  the  courteous, 

xi 


INTRODUCTION 


kindly-natured  Indian  or  semi-Indian  peasantry,  that  Doctor 
Mozans  tells  us  much  that  we  ought  to  know.  He  also  brings 
vividly  to  our  minds  facts  about  the  natural  scenery  which  are 
new  to  most  of  us.  I confess  that,  as  an  ardent  admirer  of  the 
Grand  Canyon,  it  was  rather  a shock  to  me  to  have  Doctor  Mozans 
speak  of  it  as  inferior  to  the  extraordinary  gorge  of  the  Maranon, 
the  headwaters  of  the  Amazon.  It  does  not  seem  to  me  that  any- 
thing on  this  earth  can  be  grander  than  the  Grand  Canyon ! But  at 
any  rate  I earnestly  hope  that  the  railroad  Doctor  Mozans  advo- 
cates will  speedily  be  built,  and  the  wonderful  gorge  he  describes 
be  opened  to  the  vision  of  less  hardy  travelers  than  he  is. 

In  closing,  I can  only  repeat  again  that  this  is  a delightful  book 
from  every  standpoint.  It  is  an  especially  delightful  book  for 
Americans  because  throughout  it  Doctor  Mozans  shows  that  he  is  so 
thoroughly  good  an  American,  so  imbued  with  what  is  best  in  our 
National  spirit,  and  with  the  thoughts  and  aspirations  of  our  great- 
est statesmen  and  writers,  and  indeed  of  all  who  have  expressed 
the  soul  of  our  people.  He  is  peculiarly  fit  to  interpret  for  us  our 
neighbors  to  the  south;  and  he  describes  them  with  a sympathy, 
insight  and  understanding  granted  to  but  few.  Moreover,  his  feat 
was  a really  noteworthy  feat,  and  it  is  told  with  vividness,  com- 
bined with  modesty,  and  an  evident  entire  truthfulness;  and  we 
should  be  equally  attentive  to  what  he  sets  forth  as  our  accomplish- 
ments— for  example,  in  digging  the  Isthmian  Canal  and  bringing 
order  to  Cuba — and  to  his  allusions  to  our  shortcomings,  as  shown 
by  our  ignorance  and  lack  of  appreciation  of  the  great  continent 
south  of  us,  and  our  failure  to  try  to  bring  it  and  its  people  into 
closer  relations  with  us. 


Sagamore  Hill, 
April  20,  1911. 


XII 


FOREWORD 


In  his  Discours  Preliminaire  to  the  French  translation  of  Paz 
Soldan’s  Geografia  del  Peru,  M.  Arsene  Moqueron  declares  that  in 
France  little  was  known  of  Peruvian  history,  except  what  was  con- 
tained in  Marmontel’s  ponderous  romance,  Les  Incas.  Manuel 
Fuentes,  in  his  charming  work  on  Lima,  makes  a similar  observa- 
tion regarding  the  ignorance  prevailing  in  Europe — and,  he  might 
have  added,  in  the  United  States  as  well — regarding  the  manners 
and  customs  of  the  people  of  Peru.  What  these  two  writers  af- 
firmed of  Peru,  might  have  been  asserted,  with  even  greater  truth, 
of  Bolivia  and  Ecuador. 

Nearly  half  a century  has  elapsed  since  Fuentes  and  Moqueron 
wrote,  and,  although  our  knowledge  of  the  coast  cities  and  capi- 
tals of  these  countries  has  been  considerably  increased  since  their 
time,  their  declarations  still  remain  substantially  true  for  the  in- 
terior of  the  countries  mentioned  and  particularly  for  that  portion 
of  them  which  lies  to  the  east  of  the  Andes.  Indeed,  one  can 
truthfully  say  that  certain  sections  of  this  immense  territory, 
extending  from  the  llanos  of  Colombia  to  the  Gran  Chaco  in  Pa- 
raguay, are  less  known  to-day  than  they  were  two  and  even  three 
centuries  ago.  This  seems  almost  incredible,  but  a reference  to 
the  numerous  works  of  the  early  missionaries,  some  of  which  have 
been  but  recently  published,  while  others  are  still  in  manuscript, 
would  amply  verify  this  seemingly  paradoxical  assertion. 

When  one  reads  these  old  chronicles,  which  have  so  long  lain 
forgotten  in  the  archives  of  Spain  and  South  America,  one  is 
forced  to  recognize  the  fact  that  many  chapters  of  the  history  of 
our  sister  continent  must  be  entirely  rewritten,  if  we  would  have 
an  adequate  presentation  of  numerous  important  events  that  have, 
until  these  later  years,  been  entirely  unknown.  One  can  also  see 
in  these  old  records  a vast  amount  of  raw  material  for  possible 
poems  and  romances,  as  well  as  histories,  which  are  merely  await- 
ing the  advent  of  future  Longfellows,  Chateaubriands,  Parkmans, 
Prescotts,  Irvings  and  Quintanas  to  evolve  from  it  imperishable 
creations  of  literary  art. 

And  when  one  crosses  the  lofty  mountains  and  traverses  the 

xiii 


FOREWORD 


impenetrable  forests  that  witnessed  the  marvelous  exploits  of  the 
conquistadores,  and  recalls  in  detail  the  amazing  deeds  of  prowess 
of  the  Pizarros,  the  Orellanas,  the  Quesadas,  the  Bellacazars,  which 
have  cast  such  a glamour  over  the  Spanish  name  and  nation,  one 
seems  to  be  carried  back  to  the  days  of  chivalry,  or  to  the  times 
when  Iberian  valor — quidlibet  audendi  potestas — was  engaged  in 
its  long  and  heroic  struggle  with  the  infidel  Moor. 

Nor  is  this  all.  When  one  studies  on  the  ground  what  has  been 
accomplished  for  civilization,  by  the  descendants  of  the  conquista- 
dores; when  one  contemplates  their  universities  and  other  institu- 
tions of  learning;  when  one  scans  the  long  list  of  names  of  those 
who  have  achieved  distinction  in  science,  art,  literature,  economics, 
jurisprudence;  when  one  notes  the  progress  that  is  now  being  made 
in  commerce  and  in  the  development  of  the  inexhaustible  resources 
of  forest,  field  and  mine ; when  one  watches  shipload  after  ship- 
load of  immigrants  eagerly  hastening  to  the  land  of  promise  under 
the  Southern  Cross,  one  can  realize,  as  never  before,  that  South 
America,  in  spite  of  countless  retarding  influences,  has  been  stead- 
ily working  out  its  destiny  and  progressing  towards  a great  and 
brilliant  future.  But,  what  above  all  else  impresses  the  traveler, 
is  what  Mr.  Root,  on  the  occasion  of  his  visit  to  the  southern  con- 
tinent, happily  designated  as  “the  laboratory  of  life,  where  Eng- 
lish, German,  Italian,  French,  and  Spanish  and  American  were  all 
being  welded  together  to  make  a new  type.” 

In  this  great  laboratory  we  can  see  the  same  process  at  work 
that  for  the  last  century  and  more  has  been  operating  with  such 
splendid  results  in  the  United  States.  Here,  notwithstanding  the 
constant  influx  of  millions  of  immigrants  of  divers  nationalities, 
all  have  conformed  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  mold  and  the  outcome  is 
the  Anglo-American  type,  with  all  the  sterling  characteristics  of 
its  component  elements.  In  our  sister  continent,  it  is  the  Latin 
mold  into  which  the  divers  elements  are  compounded  and  from 
which  issues  the  Neo-Latin  variety  of  man  known  as  the  Spanish- 
American,  as  distinct  and  as  characteristic  as  the  Anglo-American 
of  the  United  States. 

That  the  immigrants  from  Spain,  France  and  Italy  should  con- 
form to  this  Neo-Latin  mold  was  to  be  expected,  but  one  would 
have  credited  the  English,  the  Irish,  the  Slavs,  the  Germans  with 
greater  powers  of  resistance.  All,  however,  without  exception, 
are,  through  life’s  mysterious  processes,  being  rapidly  amalga- 


xiv 


FOREWORD 


mated  and  absorbed  by  the  dominant  type.  This  is  specially  re- 
markable in  southern  Brazil,  “where  the  German  population  is  so 
dense  that  Pan-German  apostles  have  often  claimed  them  as  free 
colonies  of  Deutschthum,  but  the  colonists  adapt  themselves  to 
local  life  and  soon  speak  the  language  of  the  country.” 

These  facts  show  the  fatuity  of  those  who  regard  the  Iberian 
race  as  degenerate  or  moribund.  The  truth  is  that  the  Spaniards 
and  their  nearest  of  kin,  the  Portuguese,  notwithstanding  their 
being  so  long  “the  apparent  sport  of  malicious  and  inconstant 
fortune,”  contain  within  themselves  the  promise  and  the  potency 
of  a renascence  that  will  soon  surprise  the  world.  Never  before 
in  their  long  and  marvelous  history  have  they  been  more  progres- 
sive or  more  powerful.  Never  were  their  sonorous  tongues  so 
widely  spoken,  or  by  a larger  number  of  people  than  at  present. 
Never  did  they  rank  higher  or  approach  nearer  towards  universal 
use  among  the  great  languages  of  the  world.  Omitting  the  peoples 
and  tongues  of  China,  and  of  Russia  which  is  more  than  half 
Asiatic,  the  Spanish  race  and  tongue  to-day  are  surpassed  in 
point  of  numbers,  distribution  and  future  promise  only  by  the 
Anglo-Saxon. 

To  the  great  Iberian  race  belongs  the  whole  of  the  western 
hemisphere  from  the  northern  frontier  of  Mexico  to  the  straits  of 
Magellan.  This,  with  its  possessions  in  Europe,  Asia,  and  Africa, 
constitutes  more  than  one-fourth  of  the  earth’s  surface.  No  other 
race  since  the  fall  of  Rome,  except  the  Anglo-Saxon,  has  achieved 
more  in  conquest  and  colonization  or  has  contributed  more  to  the 
advancement  of  civilization  and  culture.  A composite  race,  like 
the  Anglo-Saxon,  and  possessing  some  of  the  strongest  elements 
of  the  English  people,  it  is  a race  of  inexhaustible  vitality  and 
possesses  a boundless  field  for  future  expansion  and  development. 
Great  as  has  been  its  past  and  mighty  and  manifold  as  have  been 
its  influence  and  achievements  in  every  sphere  of  activity,  its 
future  will  be  still  greater.  Indeed,  the  Neo-Latin  race,  now  ad- 
vancing with  such  marvelous  strides,  bids  fair  soon  to  become  a 
close  rival  of  the  noble  Anglo-American  race  in  the  great  republic 
of  the  north. 

In  the  following  pages,  as  in  my  work,  Following  the  Conquista- 
dores  up  the  Orinoco  and  down  the  Magdalena,  I have  endeavored 
not  only  to  give  a picture  of  the  country  and  the  people  as  I saw 
them,  but  also  to  summarize  their  hopes,  aspirations  and  prospects. 


xv 


FOREWORD 


I have  also  briefly  discussed  certain  topics  that  present  themselves 
to  every  traveler  in  the  land  of  the  Incas,  especially  when  he  con- 
templates the  wonderful  monuments  which  are  scattered  over  the 
length  and  breadth  of  this  vast  territory — monuments  which  have 
elicited  the  admiration  of  every  beholder  since  the  days  of  the 
conquest.  In  doing  this,  I have  drawn  freely  on  the  works  of  the 
early  chroniclers,  many  of  whom  are  still  practically  unknown  to 
English  readers,  and  have  given,  when  the  narrative  seemed  to 
require  it,  the  conclusions  of  the  latest  and  most  competent  inves- 
tigators regarding  the  subjects  under  discussion. 

And  that  the  reader,  if  so  minded,  may  be  able  to  control  my 
statements,  or  that  he  may  know  where  to  find  further  and  au- 
thentic information  on  any  of  the  various  topics  treated,  I have, 
in  footnotes  and  in  the  bibliography  at  the  end  of  the  volume, 
given  the  sources  of  my  information  and  the  authorities  which,  in 
controverted  questions,  I have  considered  the  most  trustworthy. 
In  traversing  a field  so  full  of  interesting  subjects,  and  so  rich  in 
literary  and  other  monuments,  as  is  the  once  famous  empire  of 
the  Children  of  the  Sun,  this  method  of  procedure  seemed  advis- 
able, if  not  necessary,  at  least  in  the  interest  of  that  rapidly  grow- 
ing class  of  readers,  who  desire  full  and  accurate  information 
respecting  what  is  historically,  if  not  in  other  respects,  the  most 
fascinating  part  of  South  America. 

I would  be  ungrateful  if  I failed  to  thank  publicly  those  who 
contributed  so  materially  towards  making  my  journey  to  the 
southern  continent  so  enjoyable  and  so  profitable.  Chief  among 
these,  whose  uniform  kindness  and  courtesy  I can  never  forget, 
were  His  Excellency,  Dr.  J ose  Pardo,  President  of  Peru : his  ac- 
complished brother,  Don  Juan  Pardo,  president  of  the  Peruvian 
Chamber  of  Deputies;  F.  A.  Pezet,  Peruvian  minister  to  Central 
America ; the  prefects  and  governors,  who  gave  me  such  generous 
hospitality  on  my  way  across  the  Andes  from  the  Pacific  to  the 
Amazon ; Senores  Ballivian  and  Hope,  the  amiable  ministers  of 
the  Bolivian  Cabinet;  and  Mr.  W.  Eyre,  manager  of  the  Peruvian 
Corporation,  and  Mr.  E.  G.  Townsend,  general  superintendent  of 
the  Railways  of  the  South  of  Peru.  To  these  and  to  many  others 
in  Ecuador,  Bolivia,  Peru  and  Brazil,  to  whom  I am  under  lasting 
obligations,  I hereby  tender  the  fullest  acknowledgments  of  a grate- 
ful heart. 


xvi 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  Pleasant  Days  in  Panama 1 

II.  On  the  Great  South  Sea 28 

III.  From  Sultry  Coastland  to  Chilly  Paramo  . . 49 

IV.  A Land  of  Volcanoes 73 

V.  Quito  Bonito 93 

VI.  A Rainless  Coast 109 

VII.  Wonders  of  Sea  and  Mountain 125 

VIII.  La  Villa  Hermosa 138 

IX.  The  Cradle  of  the  Incas 149 

X.  In  Aymaraland 166 

XI.  The  Baalbec  of  the  New  World 189 

XII.  The  Home  of  the  Quichuas 198 

XIII.  The  Rome  of  South  America 216 

XIV.  The  City  of  the  Kings 242 

XV.  The  Realm  of  the  Great  Chimu 265 

XVI.  In  the  Footsteps  of  Pizarro  and  Orsua  ....  288 

XVII.  Theatre  of  a Great  Tragedy 314 

XVIII.  In  the  Heart  of  the  Andes 347 

XIX.  A Peruvian  Paradise 379 

XX.  Tramping  Through  a Tropical  Forest  ....  398 

XXI.  Drifting  in  a Dugout 422 

XXII.  Battle-Grounds  and  Achievements  of  the  Con- 

QUISTADORES  OF  THE  CROSS 438 

XXIII.  Romance  of  the  Amazon 463 

XXIV.  Sailing  Under  the  Line 488 

XXV.  Homeward  Bound 513 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 529 

INDEX 535 


XVII 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 

PAGE 

Procession  of  Corpus  Christi  in  the  Plaza  de  Armas,  Cuzco 

Frontispiece 

Roosevelt  Avenue,  Cristobal-Colon 24 

City  of  Panama 24 

Peon’s  home  in  the  tropical  belt  of  Ecuador 62 

Indian  village  in  the  highlands  of  Ecuador 62 

Astronomical  Observatory,  Quito 80 

Summit  of  Chimborazo  as  seen  from  the  plateau 80 

Mountain  town  on  Oroya  Railroad,  showing  andenes 128 

Fishermen  on  Lake  Titicaca,  near  Puno 154 

Celebration  of  a festival  at  Copacabana 154 

A troop  of  llamas 174 

La  Paz,  with  Illimani  to  the  right 174 

Megalithic  ruins  of  Tiahuanaco,  Bolivia 190 

Portal  of  the  Pre-Incaic  ruins  of  Tiahuanaco,  Bolivia 190 

Pulpit  in  the  Church  of  San  Bias,  Cuzco,  made  by  an  Indian 

artificer  238 

Threshing  and  winnowing  wheat  in  the  Valley  of  Cuzco 238 

The  Cathedral  of  Lima 246 

The  City  of  the  Kings 246 

Pre-Incaic  ruins  of  Cuelap,  near  Chaehapoyas 272 

Ruins  of  the  Great  Chimu 272 

A tambo  in  the  Andes 296 

Scene  on  our  trail  in  the  Andes 296 

House  of  Atahualpa’s  ransom,  Cajamarca 334 

Indian  women  on  the  Paranapura 334 

A camp  in  the  forest  between  Moyobamba  and  Balsapuerto . . 402 


xix 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 


PAGE 

Fording  a river  in  the  Montana 402 

A river  scene  on  the  Rio  Negro  at  Manaos 498 

Forest  view  along  the  Amazon 516 

Botanical  Garden,  Para 516 


Note. — For  some  of  the  photographs  used  in  illustrating  this  book  I am 
indebted  to  the  courtesy  of  my  good  friends,  Mr.  Lee  McLung  and  Professor 
Isaiah  Bowman.  For  others  I am  under  obligations  to  Mrs.  T.  H.  Spottiswoode, 
a young  Englishwoman,  who,  with  her  husband,  crossed  the  continent  of 
South  America  by  way  of  the  Amazon  and  the  Cajamarca  route,  and  who  suc- 
ceeded in  taking  a large  number  of  most  valuable  photographs  of  the  places 
visited. 


XX 


Route  Followed  by  the  Author. 


ALONG  THE  ANDES 
AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


CHAPTER  I 

PLEASANT  DAYS  IN  PANAMA 

To  the  traveler  and  the  historian  no  part  of  the  New 
World  is  more  replete  with  interest  than  the  narrow  strip 
of  land  which  is  laved  by  the  waters  of  the  Caribbean  on 
the  north  and  those  of  the  Gulf  of  Panama  on  the  south. 
No  part  is  richer  in  historical  associations,  none  has 
witnessed  more  heroic  deeds  of  valor  or  more  brilliant 
achievements,  and  none  has  contributed  more  fascinating 
pages  to  the  annals  of  discovery  and  daring  emprise. 

The  great  Admiral  of  the  Ocean  Sea  beat  up  and  down 
its  coast  in  his  futile  search  for  that  mythical  strait  which 
was  to  afford  him  a short  route  to  the  Land  of  Spices. 
Even  some  of  the  names  which  the  Isthmus  still  bears 
are  reminders  of  his  visit  to  this  part  of  the  world. 
Eodrigo  de  Bastidas,  “Spain’s  noblest  and  best  con- 
quistador,” was  also  here  on  a similar  quest  as  were  like- 
wise, there  is  reason  to  believe,  Alonzo  de  Ojeda, 
Amerigo  Vespucci  and  Juan  de  la  Cosa.  They,  too,  were 
looking  for  the  fabled  passageway  to  India. 

A few  years  later  they  were  followed  by  Vasco  Nunez 
de  Balboa,  the  illustrious  discoverer  of  the  great  South 
Sea.  Starting  from  Santa  Maria  de  la  Antigua,  on  the 
Gulf  of  Darien,  he  skirted  the  coast  until  he  reached  a 
point  near  Cape  Tiburon,  whence  he  pushed  his  way 
through  the  almost  impervious  forests  to  what  is  now 

1 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


known  as  the  Gulf  of  San  Miguel.  By  a most  happy 
chance  he  crossed  the  Isthmus  at  its  narrowest,  albeit  not 
at  its  lowest  part,  and  along  the  line  on  which,  centuries 
later,  was  located  what  is  known  as  the  Caledonian  Canal 
route.  In  Balboa’s  valiant  band  was  Francisco  Pizarro, 
who,  in  place  of  his  ill-fated  chief,  was  destined  to  be 
one  of  the  great  makers  of  history  in  the  discovery  and 
conquest  of  the  land  of  the  Incas. 

Contrary  to  what  is  frequently  stated,  the  route  chosen 
by  Balboa  on  his  way  to  the  South  Sea  was  nearly  a 
hundred  miles  distant  from  the  Panama  railroad.  And 
the  eminence  from  which  he  got  his  first  view  of  the  Pacific 
was  not,  as  some  writers  assert,  El  Cerro  Gigante,  mid- 
way between  Colon  and  Panama,  but  some  elevated  point 
in  the  Cordillera,  probably  the  great  massif  of  Pirri, 
northeast  of  San  Miguel  Bay. 

The  first  port  of  note,  on  the  Caribbean  side  of  the 
Isthmus,  was  Nombre  de  Dios,  which,  because  of  the  im- 
mense treasures  that  were  at  times  collected  there  in 
transit  to  Spain,  was  called  the  Treasure  House  of  the 
World.  This  place,  on  account  of  its  insalubrity,  was 
subsequently  abandoned.  To-day  not  a trace  of  it  is 
visible.  Porto  Bello  replaced  it  as  a port  and  until  the 
foundation  of  Aspinwall — now  known  as  Colon — it  was  one 
of  the  most  important  ports  on  the  Caribbean,  for  here 
was  garnered  all  the  gold,  silver  and  pearls  that  had  been 
brought  from  the  mines  of  Peru  and  the  islands  of  the 
South  Sea. 

For  a long  time  there  was  a paved  road  between  Porto 
Bello  and  Panama  and  during  the  halcyon  days  of  Span- 
ish rule,  the  value  of  the  traffic  that  passed  over  it  was 
immense.  Some  times,  however,  a portion  of  the  mer- 
chandise was  shipped  a part  of  the  way  by  the  Chagres 
River.  These  were  the  routes  taken  by  Drake  and  Morgan 
during  their  memorable  raids.  They  were,  in  fact,  the 
only  routes  available  for  freight  and  passengers  until  the 
completion  of  the  Panama  railroad  in  1855. 

2 


PLEASANT  DAYS  IN  PANAMA 


It  was  during  the  veranito — the  short  summer  that  fol- 
lows St.  John’s  day,  which  occurs  the  24th  of  June, — 
that  I first  set  foot  on  the  soil  of  Colon.  The  sun  was 
approaching  the  zenith  of  a cloudless  sky;  the  tempera- 
ture was  high,  but  far  from  being  as  oppressive  as  I had 
been  led  to  expect.  Indeed,  in  the  shade,  thanks  to  the 
grateful  breeze  from  the  sea,  it  was  quite  comfortable. 
The  streets  of  the  city  were  crowded  near  the  wharf  with 
people,  mostly  negroes  and  Chinamen,  but,  while  there 
was  considerable  noise  and  bustle,  there  was  no  disorder. 
I lost  no  time  in  having  my  luggage  transferred  to  the 
leading  hotel,  where  I found  excellent  quarters  and 
whence  I soon  sallied  forth  to  study  the  city  and  its  en- 
virons. 

Colon  is  quite  a modern  town,  counting  barely  three- 
score years  since  its  foundation.  It  is  the  Caribbean 
terminus  of  the  Panama  railroad,  and  is  by  far  the  most 
important  part  of  the  young  republic.  Steamers  call 
there  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  the  volume  of  cargo 
discharged  and  taken  on  is  astonishing.  If  the  amount 
of  traffic  is  now  so  great  what  will  it  be,  one  instinctively 
asks,  when  the  canal  is  completed  and  opened  to  the  com- 
merce of  all  nations'? 

The  houses  of  Colon  are  very  unlike  those  of  other 
Spanish-American  towns.  They  are  mostly  frame  and 
galvanized-iron  structures,  and  remind  one  of  those 
everywhere  visible  in  the  Trans-Missouri  region.  Many 
of  them  are  the  merest  shacks,  while  others,  especially 
those  occupied  by  the  officers  of  the  Panama  Canal,  are 
models  of  comfort  and  good  taste.  The  doors  and  win- 
dows and  even  the  porches  of  these  are  provided  with 
metal  screens  so  as  to  prevent  the  ingress  of  mosquitoes 
and  other  insects.  In  such  houses,  particularly  in  those 
near  the  seashore,  one  can  enjoy  the  balmy,  equable  tem- 
perature of  the  tropics  and,  at  the  same  time,  be  free 
from  the  annoyances  inevitable  in  dwellings  that  are  not 
similarly  protected. 


3 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

The  city  stands  on  the  low,  flat  island  of  Manzanillo, 
which  is  about  a mile  long  and  three-quarters  of  a mile 
broad.  So  low  indeed,  is  it — “nowhere  more  than  four 
feet  above  mean  sea  level” — that  sewage  is  almost  im- 
possible. This,  in  one  of  the  rainiest  spots  of  the  world, 
where  good  drainage  is  so  necessary,  and  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  extraordinary  humidity,  is  a serious  drawback. 
It  certainly  justifies  the  opinion  that  this  important  port 
should  be  transferred  to  a higher  level,  or  that  the  city 
itself  should  be  elevated  by  earth  brought  down  from  the 
neighboring  highland. 

Strange,  however,  as  it  may  seem,  there  are  some  who 
prefer  Colon  as  a place  of  residence  to  Panama.  It  is 
somewhat  cooler  and  enjoys  almost  constantly  the  ines- 
timable advantage  of  the  trade-winds. 

Nor  is  it  entirely  devoid  of  beauty.  Its  rows  of  lofty 
and  graceful  palm  trees,  especially  those  in  the  more  aris- 
tocratic quarters,  are  particularly  attractive  and  give 
to  the  place  a distinction  it  would  not  otherwise  possess. 
Its  setting,  too,  enhances  the  beauty  of  the  place.  The 
swelling  hills  and  the  Quebrancha  Mountains  in  the  back- 
ground and  the  jutting  headlands  at  each  side  of  the  city 
make  it,  as  seen  from  the  deck  of  an  incoming  steamer, 
a picture  of  rare  loveliness. 

Since  the  advent  of  the  American  health  officers  a mar- 
velous improvement  has  been  noted  in  the  sanitary  con- 
dition of  Colon,  as  well  as  elsewhere  along  the  route  of 
the  canal.  Before  their  arrival,  it  fully  deserved  its 
reputation  of  being  one  of  the  worst  plague  spots  in  the 
world.  For  generations  yellow  fever  had  been  practi- 
cally endemic  there,  while  malarial  and  pernicious  fevers 
were  prevalent  in  their  most  malignant  forms.  Consid- 
ering the  low,  swampy  island  on  which  the  city  is  built, 
the  squalid  huts,  reeking  with  filth,  of  many  of  its  in- 
habitants, the  unsanitary  conditions  that  so  long  pre- 
vailed here,  the  humid,  pestilential  atmosphere  which 
ever  enveloped  it,  it  is  small  wonder  that  the  mortality  of 

4 


PLEASANT  DAYS  IN  PANAMA 


the  place  was  so  great  as  has  been  reported,  and  that  the 
voyager  studiously  avoided  this  port  as  he  would  the 
plague  itself. 

After  two  days  spent  in  studying  conditions  in  Colon, 
we — a Boston  press  agent  and  I — started  out  to  take  a 
look  at  the  work  that  is  being  done  on  the  great  canal. 
This  every  true  American,  who  visits  the  Isthmus,  deems 
a duty  and  every  intelligent  one  finds  a genuine  pleasure. 
Aside  from  its  being  the  most  stupendous  feat  of  en- 
gineering ever  attempted,  it  is  a work  in  which  all  Amer- 
icans have  a justifiable  patriotic  pride,  and  one  to  whose 
successful  completion  at  an  early  day  they  look  forward 
with  the  deepest  interest. 

I shall  never  forget  the  surprise  of  some  fellow- 
travelers  when  they  learned  the  amount  they  had  to  pay 
for  their  tickets  and  baggage  to  Panama.  “Exorbi- 
tant,” said  one;  “Extortion,”  exclaimed  another;  “No 
wonder,”  declared  a third,  “that  the  company  has  been 
able  to  declare  such  handsome  dividends.”  The  prices 
reminded  me  of  the  local  rates  one  had  to  pay  on  certain 
of  our  Rocky  Mountain  roads  a quarter  of  a century  ago. 
But  high  as  they  were,  they  were  much  lower  than  the 
prices  demanded  two  decades  ago.  Then  a ticket  from 
Colon  to  Panama,  a distance  of  forty-seven  miles,  cost 
twenty-five  dollars  in  gold  and  personal  baggage  was 
charged  for  at  the  rate  of  thirteen  cents  a pound.  And 
time  was  when  the  freight  rate  for  these  forty-seven 
miles  was  equal  to  one-half  the  amount  paid  for  it  from 
New  York  to  Valparaiso,  a distance  of  nearly  five  thou- 
sand miles. 

Immediately  after  leaving  Colon  the  train  crosses  an 
embankment,  when  the  passenger  finds  himself  on  Tierra 
Firme — the  Firm  Land  of  the  early  Spanish  writers. 
To  the  right  is  an  extensive  mangrove  swamp,  the  de- 
spair of  the  early  engineers  of  the  Panama  railroad. 
The  difficulties  they  had  to  encounter  here  in  their  pre- 
liminary survey,  as  well  as  in  the  subsequent  work  of 

5 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


construction,  were  enormous  and  taxed  tlieir  ingenuity 
and  grit  to  the  utmost.  It  is  doubtful  whether  any 
stretch  of  railroad  in  the  world  has  presented  greater 
obstacles  and  been  attended  with  greater  suffering  and 
loss  of  life  than  have  the  six  miles  in  the  pestilential 
swamp  between  Colon  and  Gatun. 

The  same  difficulties  and  dangers  were  encountered  by 
the  French  in  digging  the  canal  through  this  miasmatic, 
death-dealing  morass.  The  countless  graves  in  the  ad- 
joining cemetery  of  Mount  Hope  testify  to  the  frightful 
mortality  caused  by  plagues  which  at  times  seemed  to 
render  the  continuation  of  the  work  impossible.  Pierc- 
ing the  Alps  and  tunneling  the  crests  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain ranges  were  easy  in  comparison  with  track-laying 
and  canal-digging  on  the  Isthmus  of  Panama  before  the 
adoption  of  the  hygienic  measures  now  in  force  in  the 
Canal  Zone. 

For  a greater  part  of  the  way  up  the  northern  slope  of 
the  Isthmus  the  Chagres  River  1 is  almost  continually  in 
view.  During  the  dry  season  it  is  a shallow,  tranquil 
stream,  from  one  to  two  hundred  feet  wide,  but,  during 
the  rainy  period,  it  is  a tumultuous  river  that  often  over- 
leaps its  banks  and  carries  everything  before  it.  It  is 
said  that  in  1878  the  floods  were  so  high  that  the  railroad 
was  in  places  covered  with  eighteen  feet  of  water.  This 
fact  will  give  an  idea  of  some  of  the  problems  confronting 
our  engineers  in  devising  means  for  controlling  this  ter- 
rible water-course  during  the  season  of  rain  and  floods. 

On  both  sides  of  the  road  for  a greater  part  of  the  dis- 
tance to  Panama  the  vegetation  is  as  profuse  and  as  dense 
as  can  be  seen  anywhere  in  the  tropics.  Palms,  bamboos, 
cedars,  mahoganies,  cottonwoods,  ferns  and  heliconias,  all 
matted  together  by  vines  and  creepers  of  every  kind,  are 
most  conspicuous.  At  places  the  jungle  almost  touches 
the  rails,  and  so  rapid  is  the  growth  of  herb  and  tree  that 

i Formerly  called  by  the  Spaniards  Rio  Lagartos,  on  account  of  the  large 
number  of  crocodiles  found  in  it. 


6 


PLEASANT  DAYS  IN  PANAMA 


the  road  would  be  covered  with  a compact  mass  of  vege- 
tation in  less  than  six  months  unless  measures  were 
adopted  to  keep  it  cleared. 

Jorge  Juan  and  Antonio  de  Ulloa,  writing  of  the 
scenery  along  this  route,  declare  that  “ Nothing  can  ex- 
ceed the  prospects  which  the  rivers  of  this  country  ex- 
hibit. The  most  fertile  imagination  of  a painter  can 
never  equal  the  magnificence  of  the  rural  landscapes  here 
drawn  by  the  pencil  of  Nature.  The  groves  which  shade 
the  plains,  and  extend  their  branches  to  the  river,  the 
various  dimensions  of  the  trees,  which  cover  the  emi- 
nences, the  texture  of  their  leaves,  the  figure  of  their 
fruits,  and  the  various  colors  they  exhibit,  form  a most 
delightful  scene,  which  is  greatly  heightened  by  the  in- 
finite variety  of  creatures  with  which  it  is  diversified.”  1 

The  early  explorers  and  Buccaneers  tell  of  how  they 
had  to  cut  their  way  through  the  dense  and  tangled  for- 
ests of  the  Isthmus  by  swords  and  machetes,  and  how  it 
required  weeks  for  them  to  make  a journey  that  could 
otherwise  have  been  accomplished  in  so  many  days. 
Balboa,  on  his  way  to  the  South  Sea,  at  the  time  of  its 
discovery,  spent  twenty  days,  according  to  Oviedo,  in 
crossing  the  Isthmus  at  its  narrowest  part,  and  Morgan 
and  his  band,  under  more  favorable  conditions,  almost 
perished  from  starvation  in  making  their  way  from 
Chagres  to  Panama. 

From  the  traveler  who  visits  the  tropics  for  the  first 
time,  the  ranchos  or  huts  of  the  Indians  and  mestizos  will 
claim  special  attention.  They  are  usually  of  wattled 
bamboo,  thatched  with  grass  or  with  palm  or  oleander 
leaves,  and  of  the  simplest  possible  character.  Judging, 
however,  from  the  number  of  children  always  seen  about 
these  humble  dwellings,  there  is  no  race  suicide  in  this 
part  of  the  world. 

One  will  see  many  beautiful  flowers  along  the  way,  but 
the  one  that  will  possess  the  most  interest  for  the  lovers 

i A Voyage  to  South  America.  Vol.  I,  Book  III,  Chap.  I.  Dublin,  1758. 

7 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


of  floral  beauty  is  the  exquisite  orchid  of  the  species 
Peristeri  elata,  known  as  La  Flor  del  Espiritu  Santo — 
the  Flower  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  It  is  also  known  as  the 
dove-plant,  from  the  resemblance  of  its  strangely-formed 
column  1 to  a beautiful  white  dove.  The  wax-like  wings 
are  sometimes  spotted  with  purple,  but  whether  white  or 
spotted,  the  “dove”  is  always  an  object  of  rarest  delicacy 
and  interest.  This  remarkable  orchid,  whose  habitat  is 
in  the  Isthmus,  flowers  from  June  to  September,  and  its 
racemes  produce  flowers  for  six  or  seven  weeks  after 
opening.  The  stems  of  this  stately,  highly-ornamental 
plant  are  from  three  to  five  feet  high  and  its  wax-like, 
sweetly-scented  flowers  are  two  inches  in  diameter.  It 
was  introduced  to  the  florists  of  the  United  States  and 
Europe  from  Panama  in  1826,  but  the  cultivated  plant 
never  equals  the  gorgeous  exhibitions  of  it  one  may  see 
in  the  propitious  soil  and  atmosphere  of  Panama. 

Although  we  saw  many  birds  of  divers  species,  espe- 
cially parrots,  parrakeets,  macaws  and  humming  birds,  we 
did  not  see  a single  wild  quadruped  of  any  kind,  and  still 
less  did  we  observe  monkeys  chattering  in  the  tree  tops 
that  more  fortunate  travelers  than  ourselves  would  have 
one  believe  can  be  seen  at  any  time  from  the  windows  of 
the  passing  train.  I recalled  what  a school-fellow 
from  the  Pacific  coast  had  told  me  about  the  numbers  he 
had  seen  on  the  way  from  Panama  to  Aspinwall,  and 
how  I had  envied  him  his  opportunity  of  enjoying  such 
sights.  But  that  was  long  ago, — before  the  completion 
of  the  Union  Pacific  railroad.  I had  to  be  satisfied 
with  Lionel  Wafer’s  account  of  them,  for  he  found  them, 
he  assures  us,  in  great  droves,  some  white  but  most  of 
them  black,  some  with  beards,  others  beardless,  but  “all 
extraordinary  fat  in  the  dry  Season  when  the  Fruits  are 
Ripe.  They  are,”  he  informs  us,  “a  very  waggish  kind 
of  Monkey,  and  plaid  a thousand  antick  Tricks  as  we 

i The  name  given  to  the  consolidated  stamens  and  pistils  which,  in  most 
blossoms,  are  separate  organs. 


8 


PLEASANT  DATS  IN  PANAMA 


march’d  at  any  time  through  the  Woods,  skipping  from 
Bough  to  Bough,  with  the  young  ones  hanging  at  the  old 
ones  Back,  making  Faces  at  us  and  chattering.  To  pass 
from  top  to  top  of  high  Trees  whose  Branches  are  a little 
too  far  asunder  for  their  Leaping  they  will  sometimes 
hang  down  by  one  another’s  Tails  in  a Chain;  and  swing- 
ing in  that  manner  the  lowermost  catches  hold  of  a Bough 
of  another  Tree,  and  draws  up  the  rest  of  them.”  1 

These  monkeys  were  almost  as  clever  as  some  he  says 
he  saw  on  the  coast  of  Peru,  “who  lived  partly  upon 
oysters,  which  they  got  out  of  the  Sea  at  low  Water. 
Their  way  was  to  take  up  an  oyster  and  lay  it  upon  a 
Stone,  and  with  another  Stone  Keep  beating  of  it  till  they 
had  broke  the  Shell  in  pieces.”  2 

Near  the  point  where  the  railroad  leaves  the  Chagres 
is  a town,  inhabited  chiefly  by  negroes  and  Chinamen, 
that  bears  the  peculiar  name  of  Matachin,  a contraction 
of  two  Spanish  words  mata  cJiino,  meaning,  “Kill  China- 
man.” It  is  so  called  because  of  an  outbreak  of  yellow 
fever  here  in  1887,  which  carried  off  no  fewer  than  two 
thousand  Chinamen.  These  were  mostly  employes  on 
the  canal  under  the  French  company.  Large  numbers  of 
Chinese  laborers  were  also  engaged  in  the  construction 
of  the  railroad  and  so  many  of  them  fell  victims  to  the 
ravages  of  yellow  and  pernicious  fevers  that,  it  is  as- 
serted, a Chinaman  lies  under  every  sleeper  of  the  road 
from  Colon  to  Panama. 

A short  distance  from  Matachin,  on  the  left  bank  of 
the  Chagres,  on  the  Gold  Road  and  a short  distance  from 
the  present  railway,  is  the  hamlet  of  Cruces — formerly 
Venta  Cruz — famous  in  the  annals  of  pirates  and  Buc- 

1 Few  Voyage  and  Description  of  the  Isthmus  of  America.  Second  edition, 
pp.  84-85.  London,  1704. 

Compare  my  Following  the  Conquistadores  up  the  Orinoco  and  Down  the 
Magdalena,  pp.  151,  152,  New  York,  1910;  also  Jorge  Juan  and  Antonio  de 
Ulloa,  ut.  sup.  Vol.  I,  Book  III,  Chap.  I,  for  similar  accounts  of  monkey 
bridges. 

2 Ibid.,  p.  156. 


9 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


caneers.  It  was  here  that  Drake  captured  three  recuas 
— mule  trains — “one  of  fifty  mules,  the  other  two  of 
seventy  each,  every  one  of  which  carried  three  hundred 
pounds  of  silver;  which,  in  all,  amounted  to  near  thirty 
tons.”  1 

It  was  subsequently  visited  by  Morgan  on  his  way  to 
the  city  of  Panama.  After  capturing  the  fort  of  San 
Lorenzo,  that  guarded  the  mouth  of  the  Chagres,  he  and 
his  men  started  up  the  river  in  canoes  and  flatboats,  and 
after  untold  sufferings,  arrived  at  Yenta  Cruz  in  a starv- 
ing condition.  They  had  counted  on  securing  the  neces- 
sary provisions  en  route,  and  for  this  reason,  took  with 
them  only  enough  to  last  the  first  day.  But  the  wily 
Spaniards  had  abandoned  their  settlements  and  strong- 
holds along  the  way  and  had  left  behind  them  no  food  of 
any  kind.  At  one  place  Morgan’s  men  found  a few 
leather  bags  and  they  fell  upon  these  “like  hungry  dogs 
quarreling  for  a bone.  They  fought  and  wrangled  for 
the  scraps  of  leather  and  ate  them  greedily,  with  frequent 
gulps  of  water.”  It  took  them  seven  days  to  make  the 
journey  from  Chagres  to  Venta  Cruz,  but  when  they  ar- 
rived at  the  latter  place,  “all  sweating  and  panting,” 
exhausted  by  hunger  and  fatigue,  instead  of  finding  the 
store  of  provisions  they  expected  there,  they  discovered 
that  the  town  had  been  emptied  of  everything  that  could 
assuage  the  pangs  of  hunger  and  then  fired  by  the  re- 
treating Spaniards. 

We  stopped  at  several  places  on  the  way  to  view  the 
work  being  done  on  the  canal,  but  the  spot  at  which  we 
tarried  longest  was  Culebra.  Here  is  where  the  famous 
cut  is  being  made,  not  through  the  “mighty  mountain 
wall  of  the  Andes,”  as  is  sometimes  stated,  but  through 
a low  hill  composed  of  clay  and  soft,  friable  rock,  which, 
even  before  the  first  shovelful  of  earth  was  removed,  was 

i Referring  to  this  expedition  of  Drake — “The  master  thief  of  the  unknown 
world”— Hakluyt  writes:  “The  march  was  so  sore  as  never  Englishmen 

marched  before.” 


10 


PLEASANT  DAYS  IN  PANAMA 


less  than  three  hundred  feet  above  sea  level.  The  length 
of  the  cut,  extending  from  Obispo  to  Pedro  Miguel,  is  less 
than  eight  miles,  but  one  soon  realizes,  when  viewing  the 
army  of  men  at  work,  and  seeing  the  giant  steam  shovels 
in  operation,  that  the  undertaking  is  of  colossal  propor- 
tions and  one  worthy  of  a race  of  Titans. 

Contrary  to  what  is  often  imagined,  the  canal  is  not 
being  dug  in  the  narrowest  part  of  the  Isthmus.  The  dis- 
tance from  the  embouchure  of  the  Rio  Chepo  on  the 
Pacific  to  the  Nercalegua  in  the  bay  of  San  Bias  on  the 
Atlantic,  is  three  miles  less  than  that  from  Colon  to 
Panama.  Neither  is  the  route  of  the  canal  located  along 
the  lowest  level  obtainable.  The  watershed  of  Guys- 
coyol,  between  Lake  Nicaragua  and  the  Pacific  Ocean,  is 
only  forty-six  meters  above  sea  level,  while  that  of  the 
present  canal  route  at  Culebra,  before  any  work  was  done 
on  it,  was  nearly  twice  as  high,  being  eighty-seven  and  a 
half  meters.  The  San  Bias  route  which,  on  account  of 
its  lesser  length,  was  at  one  time  thought  of  in  connec- 
tion with  an  inter-ocean  canal,  is  fully  a thousand  feet 
above  sea  level,  with  an  intervening  massif  nearly  ten 
miles  long.1  For  this  and  many  other  reasons  that  need 
not  be  recounted  here,  the  Colon-Panama  route  was 
finally  chosen  in  preference  to  any  of  the  many  others 
that  had  been  considered  at  various  times  before  the  work 
of  construction  was  actually  begun. 

I wish  to  emphasize  the  word  many  in  this  connection, 
for  it  is  a fact  that  nearly  a score  of  different  routes  have 
been  selected  since  the  idea  was  first  conceived  of  connect- 
ing the  Atlantic  with  the  Pacific  by  a navigable  water- 
way. 

Nor  is  the  project  of  recent  origin,  as  is  sometimes 
thought,  but  one  that  dates  back  almost  to  the  time  of  the 
discovery  of  Tierra  Firme. 

It  has  been  well  said  that  “Columbus  was  the  first  one 
to  propose  a water  highway  from  Europe  to  Asia,  west- 

1 Armand  Reclus,  Panama  et  Darien,  Chap.  VII,  Paris,  1881. 

11 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


ward,  by  way  of  the  Atlantic.  It  was  such  a highway 
that  he  sought  and  not  the  new  world  which  he  actually 
found.”  In  a certain  sense,  therefore,  “Columbus  was 
the  practical  founder  of  the  enterprise,  which,  after  four 
centuries  of  delay,  President  Roosevelt  has  undertaken 
to  complete.  Nevertheless,  the  error  of  his  conceptions 
and  of  his  conclusions  in  no  way  detracts  from  the  glory 
of  Columbus.  He  went  to  seek  a new  road  to  a known 
continent.  Instead,  he  found  two  hitherto  unknown  con- 
tinents, and  to  their  colonized  inhabitants  in  after-cen- 
turies he  left  the  lesser  work  of  creating  by  artifice  the 
water  highway  which  he  had  sought,  but  which  he  sought 
in  vain,  because  Nature  had  failed  to  create  it.”  1 

Although  all  the  voyages  of  the  illustrious  Genoese  had 
for  their  object  the  discovery  of  a direct  western  route 
to  Asia,  the  fourth  and  last  one  was  particularly  remark- 
able for  the  supreme  effort  he  made  to  disclose  the 
“Secret  of  the  Strait.”  He  coasted  along  the  shores  of 
what  is  now  known  as  Central  America  and  the  Isthmus 
of  Panama  from  Gracias  a Dios  to  the  Gulf  of  Darien, 
“passing  from  cape  to  cape  and  from  bay  to  inlet,  gazing 
upon  the  marvels  of  the  New  World,  trafficking  with  the 
bronzed  Indians  and  bartering  curious  wares  for  barba- 
rous gold,”  seeking  at  every  point  for  that  mythical 
passage  which  he  was  sure  must  exist,  and  which,  if 
found,  would  put  into  his  possession  all  the  fabled  treas- 
ures of  the  Isles  of  Spices  and  of  the  Golden  Chersone- 
sus.  He  entered  the  bay  of  Porto  Bello  and  thence  pro- 
ceeded to  Nombre  de  Dios,  both  places  celebrated  as  the 
one-time  chief  ports  on  the  Caribbean  for  the  rich  mer- 
chandise of  Peru.  He  anchored  in  the  bay  of  Limon,  on 
which  Colon  and  Cristobal,  both  of  which  places  are 
named  after  him,  are  now  built,  and  furled  his  sails  in 
the  Chagres  River  at,  perhaps,  the  very  spot  where  it 
meets  the  great  canal  at  Gatun. 

i W.  F.  Johnson,  Four  Centuries  of  the  Panama  Carnal,  pp.  1 and  17, 
New  York,  1906. 


12 


PLEASANT  DAYS  IN  PANAMA 

What  Columbus  failed  to  achieve,  other  explorers  en- 
deavored to  carry  to  a successful  issue.  Among  these 
was  Gil  Gonzales  Davila,  who,  in  imitation  of  Balboa’s 
feat,  carried  the  materials  for  his  exploring  caravels 
across  the  Isthmus.  He  was  the  discoverer  of  Lake 
Nicaragua,  which,  according  to  Indian  legends,  once 
united  the  “Northern  with  the  Southern”  Sea.  There 
were  also  Alvarez  de  Pineda,  Juan  de  Grijalva,  and  Her- 
nando de  Soto,  the  discoverer  of  the  Mississippi,  who  ex- 
plored the  Mexican  coast  in  the  eager  quest  for  “the 
shorter  route  to  Cathay.” 

Hernando  Cortez,  the  famous  conqueror  of  Mexico, 
after  the  fall  of  the  empire  of  Montezuma,  likewise  en- 
gaged in  the  search  for  the  Strait  by  the  direct  command 
of  Charles  V.  What  value  this  strenuous  conquistador 
attached  to  the  discovery  of  the  eagerly-sought  passage 
is  evinced  from  the  following  words  in  a letter  to  his 
sovereign  written  in  1524: — “If  the  Strait  is  found,  I 
shall  hold  it  to  be  the  greatest  service  I have  yet  rendered. 
It  would  make  the  King  of  Spain  master  of  so  many 
lands  that  he  might  call  himself  Lord  of  the  whole 
world.” 

France  gave  Giovanni  da  Verrazzano  and  Jacques  Car- 
tier  the  same  commission  and  they  explored  the  Atlantic 
coast  as  far  north  as  Labrador.  Hendrik  Hudson  was 
seeking  the  Strait  when  he  ascended  the  river  that  bears 
his  name.  In  his  day,  it  was  thought  that  the  North 
American  continent  was  no  wider  in  the  latitude  of  the 
Hudson’s  mouth  than  it  was  at  Panama.  Cartier  was  in 
quest  of  the  Strait  when  he  sailed  up  the  St.  Lawrence, 
as  was  also  La  Salle.  The  latter’s  feudal  domain,  near 
Montreal,  retains  to  this  day  the  name  “La  Chine ” — 
China — which,  Parkman  tells  us,  was  given  in  derision  of 
the  futile  attempt  to  find  the  way  to  eastern  Asia.1 

Magellan,  it  is  true,  did  discover  a strait  leading  from 
the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  but  it  was  so  remote  from  the 

1 La  Salle  and  the  Discovery  of  the  Great  West,  Vol.  I,  p.  29,  Boston,  1897. 

13 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


world’s  great  centers  of  traffic  that  it  did  not  satisfy  the 
urgent  demands  of  ever-expanding  commerce. 

As  soon  as  the  Spanish  explorers  had  satisfied  them- 
selves that  there  was  no  natural  waterway  between  the 
two  great  oceans,  they  began  to  talk  of  creating  an 
artificial  one.  This  was  a long  time  before  the  voyages 
of  Hudson  and  a longer  time  still  before  Davis  and 
Frobisher  and  Baffin  went  in  quest  of  the  Northwest 
Passage. 

The  first  to  propose  an  interoceanic  canal  was  appar- 
ently Hernando  Cortes,  and  he  went  so  far  as  to  have 
the  Isthmus  of  Tehuantepec  surveyed  with  a view  to  the 
construction  of  such  a waterway.  He  was  followed  in 
this  ambitious  scheme  by  his  cousin,  Alvaro  de  Saavedra 
Ceron,  who,  having  been  with  Balboa  on  his  journey  to 
the  South  Sea,  and  was  therefore  familiar  with  the  nar- 
rowness and  low  elevation  of  the  Isthmus  along  the  path 
traversed  by  them,  had,  Galvano  informs  us,  “meant  to 
have  opened  the  land  of  Castilla  de  Oro  and  New  Spain 
from  sea  to  sea.”  1 

Shortly  after  Cortes  had  written  the  above-mentioned 
letter  to  his  sovereign,  Gomara  and  Galvano,  referring  to 
the  importance  of  an  artificial  canal  and  of  its  superior- 
ity over  the  routes  by  the  Strait  of  Magellan,  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope  and  the  problematic  Northwest  Passage, 
indicated  four  routes  which  they  deemed  feasible.  And, 
strange  as  it  may  appear,  these  were  the  very  routes  that 
have  been  so  much  discussed  in  our  own  day — namely, 
those  of  Tehuantepec,  Nicaragua,  Darien  and  Panama. 

Of  this  stupendous  enterprise,  of  which  he  took  a most 
optimistic  view,  Gomara  writes: — “There  are  mountains, 
but  there  are  also  hands.  Give  me  the  resolve  and  the 
task  will  be  accomplished.  If  determination  is  not  lack- 
ing, means  will  not  fail;  the  Indies,  to  which  the  way  is 
to  be  made,  will  furnish  them.  To  a King  of  Spain, 

i The  Discoveries  of  the  World,  p.  180,  printed  by  the  Hakluyt  Society, 
1852. 


14 


PLEASANT  DAYS  IN  PANAMA 


seeking  the  wealth  of  Indian  commerce,  that  which  is  pos- 
sible is  also  easy.”  1 

Charles  V was  specially  insistent  about  the  great  un- 
dertaking, and,  with  a view  of  determining  the  most 
practicable  route,  had  surveys  made  in  various  parts  of 
Costa  Firme,  as  the  Panama  isthmus  was  then  called, 
among  which  was  a survey  of  the  valley  of  the  Chagres 
along  practically  the  same  route  that  has  been  adopted 
by  our  American  engineers. 

Philip  II  at  first  held  the  same  views  as  his  father 
about  the  importance  of  the  canal,  but  he  soon  changed 
his  policy.  He  was  discouraged  by  the  unfavorable  re- 
ports received  from  his  engineers,  and  the  rapidly  rising 
power  of  the  English  at  sea  made  him  fear  that  he  would 
not  be  able  to  control  it  if  constructed.  Finally,  like  the 
historian  Acosta,  he  apparently  concluded  that  “it  would 
be  contrary  to  the  Divine  Will  to  unite  two  oceans  which 
the  Creator  of  the  World  had  separated,  and  that  to  at- 
tempt so  impious  a deed  would  surely  provoke  some 
appalling  catastrophe.2  Accordingly,  he  not  only  aban- 
doned all  schemes  for  a canal,  but  he  forbade  the  making 
of  them,  decreed  that  no  canal  should  be  constructed,  and 
imposed,  it  is  said,  the  penalty  of  death  upon  any  one 
who  should  make  known,  or  should  attempt  to  seek  a bet- 
ter route  across  the  Isthmus  than  the  overland  trail  from 
Porto  Bello  to  Panama;  especially  interdicting  attempts 
on  the  Mandigua  or  Atrato  River.”  3 

1 Historia  General  de  las  Indias,  p.  222,  of  Biblioteca  de  Autores  Espaholes, 
Tom.  XXII,  Madrid,  1877. 

2 “I  believe  there  is  no  humaine  power  able  to  beat  and  breake  downe 
those  strong  and  impenetrable  mountaines,  which  God  hath  placed  betwixt 
the  two  seas,  and  hath  made  them  most  hard  roekes,  to  withstand  the  furie 
of  two  seas.  And  although  it  were  possible  to  men,  yet  in  my  opinion  they 
should  feare  punishment  from  heaven  in  seeking  to  correct  the  workes  which 
the  Creator  by  his  great  providence  hath  ordained  and  disposed  in  the  fram- 
ing of  this  universall  world.”  The  Natural  and  Moral  History  of  the  Indies, 
translated  by  Edward  Grimston,  Book  III,  Chap.  X,  London,  1604. 

3 Johnson,  op.  cit.,  pp.  33  and  34,  Scruggs,  The  Colombian  and  Venezuelan 
Republics,  pp.  13  et  seq.,  Boston,  1905;  and  Forbes  Lindsay,  Panama,  the 
Isthmus  and  the  Canal,  Philadelphia,  1906. 

15 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Little  more  was  said  or  done  about  an  Isthmian  water- 
way until  the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  century.  It 
was  then  that  Lionel  Wafer,  who  had  accompanied  the 
freebooter,  Captain  Sharpe,  across  the  Isthmus,  near  the 
route  that  had  been  followed  by  Balboa,  returned  to  Eng- 
land and  reported  that  “in  that  part  of  the  Isthmus  there 
was  no  mountain  range  at  all.  There  were  only  detached 
hills,  among  which  were  broad  low  valleys,  extending 
across  the  narrow  Isthmus  from  sea  to  sea.” 

A canny  Scott,  William  Patterson,  the  founder  of  the 
Bank  of  England,  learning  of  this,  conceived  the  idea  of 
establishing  a colony  on  the  Isthmus  of  Darien,  which 
should  secure  for  Great  Britain  “the  Keys  of  the  Uni- 
verse, enabling  their  possessors  to  give  laws  to  both 
oceans,  and  to  become  the  arbiters  of  the  commercial 
world.”  His  views  regarding  the  control  of  the  Isthmus 
were  identical  with  those  of  Cortes  and  expressed  in  al- 
most the  same  words.  His  colony  was  a failure,  but  the 
names  Puerto  Escoces  and  Caledonian  Bay,  on  which  the 
colony  was  established,  still  remain  on  the  maps,  and 
the  Caledonian  Canal  Route,  which  he  personally  surveyed, 
attests  to  his  eagerness  in  securing  for  his  country  the 
inestimable  benefits  that  would  accrue  from  the  control 
of  a waterway  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific. 

After  the  collapse  of  Patterson’s  schemes,  nothing  of 
moment  regarding  an  interoceanic  canal  was  accom- 
plished until  Humboldt,  early  in  the  nineteenth  century, 
directed  anew  the  world’s  attention  to  the  prime  impor- 
tance of  the  enterprise  which,  he  declared,  was  “calcu- 
lated to  immortalize  a government  occupied  with  the  true 
interests  of  humanity.”  1 

The  investigations  of  Humboldt  regarding  the  Isthmian 
canal  had  immense  interest  for  everyone  but  for  none 
more  than  for  his  illustrious  countryman,  the  poet 
Goethe,  whose  forecast  regarding  the  connection  of  the 

i Essai  Politique  sur  le  Royaume  de  la  Eouvelle  Espagne,  Tom.  I,  p.  260, 
Paris,  1811. 


16 


PLEASANT  DAYS  IN  PANAMA 

United  States  with  the  great  work  was  truly  prophetic. 
In  his  Conversations  with  Eckermann  and  Soret  in 
February,  1827,  he  expresses  himself  in  the  following  re- 
markable manner: — 

“So  much,  however,  is  certain,  that  if  they  succeed  in 
cutting  such  a canal  that  ships  of  any  burden  and  size 
can  be  navigated  through  it  from  the  Mexican  Gulf  to  the 
Pacific  Ocean,  innumerable  benefits  will  result  to  the 
whole  human  race,  civilized  and  uncivilized.  But  I 
should  wonder  if  the  United  States  were  to  let  an  oppor- 
tunity escape  of  getting  such  a work  into  their  hands. 
It  may  be  foreseen  that  this  young  State,  with  its  decided 
predilection  for  the  West,  will  in  thirty  or  forty  years, 
have  occupied  and  peopled  the  large  tract  of  land  beyond 
the  Rocky  Mountains.  It  may,  furthermore,  he  foreseen 
that  along  the  whole  coast  of  the  Pacific  Ocean,  where 
Nature  has  already  formed  the  most  capacious  harbors, 
important  commercial  towns  will  gradually  arise,  for  the 
furtherance  of  a great  intercourse  between  China  and  the 
East  Indies  and  the  United  States.  In  such  a case  it 
would  be  not  only  desirable  but  almost  necessary  that  a 
more  rapid  communication  should  be  maintained  between 
the  eastern  and  western  shores  of  North  America, 
both  by  merchant  ships  and  men  of  war,  than  has  hith- 
erto been  possible  with  the  tedious,  disagreeable  and  ex- 
pensive voyage  around  Cape  Horn.  I therefore  repeat 
that  it  is  absolutely  indispensable  for  the  United  States 
to  effect  a passage  from  the  Mexican  Gulf  to  the  Pacific 
Ocean;  and  I am  certain  that  they  will  do  it.”  1 

One  would  think  that  the  immortal  bard  was  speaking 
at  the  time  when  the  Oregon  was  making  her  wonderful 
voyage  around  the  Horn  and  not  three-quarters  of  a cen- 
tury earlier.  This  was  one  of  the  great  undertakings  he 
wished  to  see  realized  before  his  death.  “It  would,”  he 
declared,  “well  be  worth  the  trouble  to  last  some  fifty 
years  more  for  the  very  purpose.”  2 

i P.  222,  The  Bohn  edition,  1892.  2 Ibid. 

17 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


But  it  is  not  my  intention  to  give  an  epitome  of  the 
history  of  the  Panama  Canal.  That  has  frequently  been 
done  by  others.1  I merely  wish  to  call  attention  to  the  less 
known  and  more  interesting  features  connected  with  this 
colossal  enterprise. 

From  the  time  of  Humboldt  and  Goethe,  in  its  gradual 
evolution  from  a mere  idea  to  an  accomplished  fact,  the 
question  of  the  canal  was  taken  up  with  renewed  interest 
and  with  a more  determined  purpose  by  statesmen  and 
engineers.  It  became  the  subject-matter  of  international 
politics  and  protracted  diplomacy.  During  all  this 
time  the  face  of  the  great  American  Republic  was  set 
toward  the  Isthmus,  and,  after  long  years  of  discussion 
and  numberless  surveys  and  the  making  and  abrogating 
of  many  treaties,  the  United  States  finally  stepped  in  to 
complete  the  work  that  Goethe,  in  the  early  part  of  the 
preceding  century,  had  declared  was  indispensable  to  its 
fullest  commercial  and  military  efficiency. 

The  vast  army  of  men  so  intelligently  directed  and  so 
admirably  cared  for,  working  so  effectively  and  so  en- 
thusiastically from  Colon  to  Panama  assures  the  early  com- 
pletion of  this  the  greatest  engineering  feat  of  the  ages. 

“When  do  you  expect  to  finish  the  canal?”  I asked  a 
young  American  engineer  operating  one  of  the  large 
steam  shovels  employed  in  excavating  Culebra  cut.  “If 
Roosevelt  were  in  charge  here,  the  work  would  be  com- 
pleted in  six  years.  You  can’t  imagine  what  ginger  he 
put  into  the  boys  when  he  was  here.  He  is  the  man  to 
make  the  dirt  fty.  We  should  like  to  see  him  come  down 
here  to  boss  the  job.”  “You  bet  your  life  we  would,” 
chimed  in  a sturdy  ex-Rough  Rider,  standing  hard  by. 
“Teddy  is  the  boy  to  make  things  move,  I tell  you.  I 
served  under  him  in  Cuba  and  I know  what  I am  talking 
about.  If  this  old  ditch  is  ever  finished,  it  will  be  be- 
cause he  took  it  in  hand.  Nobody  else  would  ever  have 

i Especially  by  Forbes  Lindsay,  whose  latest  work,  Panama  and  the  Canal 
To-day,  gives  a graphic  account  of  this  stupendous  undertaking. 

18 


PLEASANT  DAYS  IN  PANAMA 


had  the  nerve  to  undertake  the  work  when  there  was  so 
much  opposition  to  it.  That  Frenchman,  De  Lesseps, 
was  able  to  build  the  Suez  Canal,  but  he  had  to  throw  up 
his  hands  when  he  tackled  Panama.  It  was  too  much  for 
him.  It  took  a big,  wide,  go-ahead  American  with  a 
‘Big  Stick’  to  do  the  trick.  We  are  all  proud  of  him, 
and,  if  we  had  our  way  about  it,  the  canal,  when  finished, 
would  be  called  Roosevelt  Canal.  Taft  is  a good  fellow 
and  Goethals  is  a good  fellow,  and  they  have  both  done 
splendid  work  on  the  canal,  but,  say  what  you  will,  Teddy 
is  the  daddy  of  them  all.  He  knows  how  to  do  things  and 
he  does  them.  And  wherever  you  run  across  him  you 
will  be  sure  to  find  him  going  some.” 

There  is  no  doubt  about  it,  Roosevelt’s  influence  has 
been  a powerful  factor  in  guaranteeing  the  success  of  the 
Panama  enterprise,  and  his  spirit,  it  was  evident,  per- 
vaded the  ranks  of  the  thirty-five  thousand  men  that  were 
at  the  time  of  our  visit  striving  with  irresistible  energy 
and  unabated  enthusiasm  to  finish  at  the  earliest  possible 
date  the  most  stupendous  work  ever  undertaken  by  man 
— a work  before  which  the  pyramids  of  Egypt,  marvelous 
as  they  are,  fade  into  insignificance. 

When  the  work  shall  be  completed,  the  dream  of 
Columbus  will  be  a reality  and  the  Strait,  that  so  many 
ardent  explorers  sought  for  so  eagerly,  will  be  no  longer 
a secret.  The  direct  route  to  Cathay  and  the  Island  of 
Spices  will  be  opened  to  the  traders  of  the  world  and  the 
mariner  on  the  storm-swept  Atlantic  will  at  last  be  able 
to  direct  the  prow  of  his  vessel  toward  Balboa’s  Mar  del 
Sur,  not  far  from  where  it  first  met  the  ecstatic  gaze  of 
the  ill-fated  conquistador,  and  say  with  Tennyson’s 
Ulysses : 


“My  purpose  holds 

To  sail  beyond  the  sunset,  and  the  baths 
Of  all  the  western  stars.” 


19 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


There  is  apparently  but  one  thing  that  may  interfere 
with  the  successful  operation  of  the  canal  after  its  com- 
pletion— earthquakes.  There  is,  however,  but  little  to  be 
apprehended  from  this  source,  as  the  danger,  although 
possible,  seems  remote.  It  is  true  that  the  canal  is  in  the 
belt  of  seismic  disturbances,  but,  outside  of  the  compara- 
tively slight  shocks  of  1854  and  1882,  there  is  no  record 
of  any  serious  earth-tremor  during  the  last  four  cen- 
turies. As  an  evidence  of  the  freedom  of  the  Isthmus 
from  the  heavy  shocks,  the  natives  point  to  the  large 
tower,  yet  standing,  of  the  Cathedral  of  Old  Panama, 
which  is  still  in  an  admirable  state  of  preservation.  A 
better  evidence  probably  of  the  exemption  of  Panama 
from  earthquakes,  as  compared  with  the  neighboring  re- 
public of  Costa  Rica,  is  the  fact  that  during  the  years 
1901  and  1903  there  was  not  a single  shock  at  Panama, 
whereas,  in  San  Jose  there  were  one  hundred  and  fifty, 
more  than  thirty  of  which  were  quite  severe. 

Humboldt  speculated  on  the  possible  results  in  the  cur- 
rents of  the  ocean  which  would  follow  the  construction  of 
a tide-level  canal.  “We  cannot  doubt,”  he  writes,  “that 
if  the  Isthmus  of  Panama  were  once  burst,  by  some  simi- 
lar catastrophe  to  that  which  opened  the  columns  of  Her- 
cules, the  current  of  rotation,  instead  of  ascending  toward 
the  Gulf  of  Mexico  and  issuing  through  the  Bahama 
Channel,  would  follow  the  same  parallel  from  the  coast 
of  Paria  to  the  Philippine  Islands.  The  effect  of  this 
opening  or  new  strait,  would  extend  much  beyond  the 
Banks  of  New  Foundland,  and  would  either  occasion  the 
disappearance  or  diminish  the  celerity  of  the  Gulf 
Stream.”  1 

No  results  would  follow  the  construction  of  a lock 
canal,  and  it  is  highly  improbable  that  any  change  in 

1 Op.  cit.,  Tom.  I,  pp.  245-246. 

Acosta,  ut.  sup.,  referring  to  the  prophet  “to  joyne  one  sea  to  the  other” 
writes  “some  would  say  it  were  a meanes  to  drowne  the  land,  one  sea  being 
lower  than  another.” 


20 


PLEASANT  DAYS  IN  PANAMA 


ocean  currents  would  be  effected  through  a tide-level 
channel,  unless  it  were  as  wide  as  the  one  depicted  on  the 
map  of  Waldseemiiller,  who  was  unaware  of  the  existence 
of  an  isthmus  connecting  the  northern  continent  of  the 
New  World  with  the  southern. 

Much  as  we  were  interested  in  examining  the  huge  un- 
dertaking that  was  to  separate  two  continents,  which  had 
been  united  since  the  late  Miocene,  there  was  another 
work  of  a different  character,  but  of  supreme  importance, 
that  has  been  conducted  on  the  Isthmus,  which  elicited 
our  keenest  attention  and  commanded  unbounded  admira- 
tion for  the  marvelous — apparently  impossible — results 
that  have  been  achieved  in  a few  short  years  and  that, 
too,  in  the  face  of  what  seemed  to  be  unsurmountable  ob- 
stacles. 

I refer  to  the  extraordinary  work  that  has  been  accom- 
plished by  Colonel  Gorgas  and  his  energetic  associates 
in  extirpating  malaria  and  yellow  fever  from  the  Canal 
Zone,  and  in  eliminating  from  it  those  other  recurrent 
plagues  which,  prior  to  the  arrival  of  the  American  sani- 
tary officers,  had  so  decimated  the  ranks  of  the  employes 
on  the  canal  and  railway.  No  better  illustration  could  be 
given  of  the  achievements  of  sanitary  science  than  the 
change  that  has  been  effected  by  the  introduction  here 
of  modern  prophylactic  methods  in  fighting  against 
virulent  diseases  that  had  been  endemic  from  time  imme- 
morial. 

The  American  government  realized  from  the  outset 
that,  next  to  the  digging  of  the  canal,  the  most  important 
task  confronting  it  was  the  proper  sanitation  of  the  Canal 
Zone.  The  canal  was  to  be  built  for  all  time  and  should 
therefore  be  in  a salubrious  territory.  Epidemic  diseases 
and  their  causes  should  be  eradicated  at  once,  so  as  to  ob- 
viate that  frightful  life-toll  that  had  hitherto  been  claimed 
among  the  ranks  of  the  railway  and  canal  employes 
on  the  Isthmus.  President  Roosevelt,  in  his  address  to  the 
Canal  Commission — as  they  were  about  to  enter  upon  their 

21 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


duties  in  the  spring  of  1904, — emphasized  the  importance 
of  this  part  of  their  work  in  the  following  words : — 

“There  is  one  matter  to  which  I ask  your  special  atten- 
tion— the  question  of  sanitation  and  hygiene.  You  will 
take  measures  to  secure  the  best  medical  experts  for  this 
purpose  whom  you  can  obtain,  and  you  will,  of  course,  make 
the  contractors  submit  as  implicitly  as  your  own  employes 
to  all  the  rules  and  regulations  of  the  medical  department 
under  you.” 

Before  Colonel  Gorgas  entered  upon  his  campaign 
against  the  Anaplioles  and  the  Stegomya — the  malarial 
and  yellow  fever  mosquitoes — the  unsanitary  condition  of 
Panama  was  expressed  in  the  following  lines: 

“For  dangers  uncounted  are  clustering  there, 

The  pestilence  stalks  uncontrolled. 

Strange  poisons  are  borne  on  the  soft  languid  air 
And  lurk  in  each  leaf’s  fragrant  fold.” 

It  suffices  to  recall  the  frightful  loss  of  life  among  the 
California  gold-hunters,  between  the  year  1849  and  the 
completion  of  our  first  transcontinental  railroad;  to  allude 
to  the  time  when  the  death  rate  among  the  employes 
of  the  French  Company  rose  to  four  hundred  out  of  a 
thousand,  and  to  realize  the  pestilential  condition  of  the 
Isthmus  from  the  mouth  of  the  Chagres  to  the  Bay  of 
Panama,  to  have  some  conception  of  the  magnitude  of  the 
task  that  confronted  the  American  sanitary  officers  when 
they  assumed  charge  of  the  Canal  Zone,  July  1,  1904. 

The  undertaking  was  enough  to  appall  the  stoutest  heart, 
but  Colonel  Gorgas  and  his  aids  were  nothing  daunted. 
They  were  fresh  from  their  triumphs  in  Havana,  and  had 
absolute  confidence  in  the  efficacy  of  their  methods.  A 
year  later,  so  intelligent  and  well-directed  had  been  their 
efforts,  so  thorough  their  work,  even  to  the  minutest  de- 
tails, that  victory  was  in  sight.  Three  months  later  yellow 
fever  had  been  completely  stamped  out  of  the  Canal  Zone 
and  the  death  rate  among  employes  had  been  reduced 

22 


PLEASANT  DAYS  IN  PANAMA 


to  eleven  per  thousand,  which  is  far  below  that  of  the 
larger  cities  of  the  United  States  and  Europe. 

This  was,  indeed,  a marvelous  showing,  but  when  certain 
swamps  shall  have  been  filled  in;  when  wide  stretches  of 
grass  and  jungle  shall  have  been  cut  and  burned ; when  the 
drainage  and  sewage  systems,  now  under  construction, 
shall  have  been  completed,  and  when  other  precautionary 
measures,  now  in  force,  shall  have  had  time  to  exhibit  re- 
sults, then  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  death 
rate  shall  be  lower  even  than  it  is  at  present,  and  but  little, 
if  at  all,  above  that  of  the  most  sanitary  of  our  northern 
cities.1 

i According  to  the  Annual  Report  of  the  Isthmian  Canal  Commission  for 
the  Fiscal  Year  ending  June  30th,  1909,  the  death  rate  of  the  total  popula- 
tion in  the  Canal  Zone,  including  the  cities  of  Colon  and  Panama,  was  22.04 
per  thousand.  The  death  rate  of  the  wives  and  children  of  employes  from 
the  United  States  was  only  7.38  per  thousand,  while  the  death  rate  from 
disease  of  the  white  employes  from  the  United  States  was  reduced  to  the 
astonishingly  low  figure  of  3.70  per  thousand.  The  mortality  of  the  negro 
employes  was  11.98  per  thousand,  as  against  a mortality  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty-seven  years  before.  When  one  remembers  that  the  rate  of  mortality 
in  the  larger  cities  of  the  United  States  and  Europe  ranges  from  eighteen 
to  twenty-eight  per  thousand,  and  is  in  the  leading  cities  of  Asia  and  Africa, 
nearly  twice  as  great,  the  significance  of  the  above  figures  becomes  apparent. 
Indeed,  the  marvelous  achievement  of  Colonel  Gorgas  and  his  staff  in  trans- 
forming the  Panama  zone  from  one  of  the  greatest  plague  spots  in  the  world 
into  one  of  the  most  salubrious  of  localities,  is  little  short  of  miraculous. 

In  a recent  address  before  the  sixtieth  annual  session  of  the  American 
Medical  Association,  Colonel  Gorgas  expressed  himself  as  follows: 

I believe  that  the  debility  from  which  the  white  man  has  suffered  in  the 
past  at  Panama  and  in  other  tropical  countries  is  due  to  malaria  prin- 
cipally, and  that  if  he  protects  himself  from  this  infection  he  will  remain  as 
vigorous  and  strong  as  if  he  were  living  in  a temperate  climate.  As  a rea- 
son for  this  belief,  I would  cite  the  health  conditions  of  the  Americans  at 
Panama. 

We  have  about  8,000  white  Americans  there,  living  under  the  same  condi- 
tions that  exist  at  home  among  men  doing  the  same  character  of  work. 
They  are  exposed  to  the  weather  fully  as  much  as  they  are  at  home,  a large 
proportion  of  them  being  exposed  for  eight  hours  daily  to  the  tropical  sun 
and  rains.  Notwithstanding  this,  the  figures  quoted  show  that  their  general 
health  remains  fully  as  good  as  it  was  in  the  United  States. 

The  only  difference  between  ourselves  and  the  whites  formerly  in  Panama 
is  that  we  have  succeeded  in  protecting  ourselves  entirely  from  yellow  fever 
and  also,  to  a considerable  extent,  from  malaria.  Yellow  fever  has  a great 

23 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


During  my  week’s  sojourn  in  Panama  I was  not  even 
once  annoyed  by  mosquitoes,  and  succeeded  in  finding  one 
in  my  bedroom  only  after  a protracted  search.  Naturally, 
it  was  quite  harmless,  even  if  it  had  bitten  me,  for,  as  there 
had  been  no  cases  of  yellow  fever  in  the  Isthmus  for  several 
years,  it  could  not  have  been  infected  and  could  not,  con- 
sequently, have  inoculated  any  one  with  the  yellow  fever 
microbe. 

So  salubrious,  indeed,  is  now  the  climate  of  Panama,  and 
so  delightful  during  the  dry  season,  that  there  is  a likeli- 
hood of  its  soon  becoming  a popular  resort  for  tourists, 
especially  for  those  who  wish  to  escape  the  rigors  of  our 
northern  winter.  I know  of  no  place  that  has  a more  uni- 
form temperature.  Not  even  that  of  Barbados,  which  is 
justly  famous,  is  so  mild  or  equable.  The  average  annual 
temperature  is  about  80°  F.,  and  the  average  highest  and 
lowest  temperatures  are  not  more  than  four  or  five  degrees 
above  or  below  this  figure. 

It  is  a singular  fact  that  cases  of  sunstroke  are  almost 
unknown  in  the  city  of  Panama,  and  there  is  no  record 
there  of  the  thermometer  ever  reaching  100°  F.  And  this 
in  a spot  only  one  degree  from  the  thermal  equator ! Con- 
trast this  with  the  elevated  temperatures  recorded  in  many 
of  our  cities  in  the  United  States  where  the  mercury  fre- 
quently mounts  several  degrees  above  100°  F. 

While  the  humidity  on  the  Isthmus  is  very  great,  it  is 
never  so  excessive  as  it  is  sometimes  in  New  York  and 
Washington.  But  the  Isthmians  suffer  from  it  during  a 
longer  time  than  we  do  in  the  north.  It  is  the  long-con- 

effect  on  the  death  rate  of  a non-immune  population,  but  it  is  not  a notice- 
able cause  of  debility.  On  the  other  hand,  malaria  is  a disease  which  may 
affect  the  individual  for  years,  and  in  a locality  like  Panama  is  responsible 
for  a widespread  condition  of  debility  throughout  the  population. 

It  is  neither  difficult  nor  expensive  for  a white  man  going  to  the  tropics 
to  protect  himself  from  malaria.  It  is  only  necessary  that  he  should  screen 
his  house  well,  drain  and  clear  off  the  brush  within  one  hundred  yards  of  his 
residence.  These  measures  are  much  less  expensive  than  those  he  must  take 
in  the  temperate  zones  to  protect  himself  from  cold. 


24 


Roosevelt  Avenue,  Cristobal-Colon. 


City  of  Panama, 


PLEASANT  DAYS  IN  PANAMA 


tinned  humidity,  like  the  long-continued  high  temperature, 
that  renders  the  climate  debilitating  and  uncomfortable, 
but  notwithstanding  these  drawbacks  I have  met  many  who 
prefer  the  uniform  climate  of  Panama  to  our  variable,  ca- 
pricious climate  of  the  north. 

The  rainfall  on  the  Isthmus,  especially  on  the  Caribbean 
side,  is  extremely  heavy.  At  Colon  it  averages  twelve  feet 
a year, — an  enormous  amount.1  I shall  never  forget  my 
first  night  at  Colon,  for  it  was  signalized  by  the  heaviest 
downpour  I ever  witnessed.  The  water  literally  came 
down  in  sheets  so  thick  that  one  could  see  but  a short  dis- 
tance. It  seemed  as  if  the  flood-gates  of  heaven  had  been 
opened  and  as  if  another  Noacliian  deluge  was  imminent. 

It  is  this  heavy  rainfall,  combined  with  the  great  num- 
ber of  rainy  days — the  average  number  annually  at  Bohio 
being  two  hundred  and  forty-six — that  makes  work  on  the 
canal  so  difficult  and  renders  progress  at  times  so  slow. 

To  the  traveler  from  the  north,  every  spot  on  the  Isthmus 
is  interesting,  hut  the  place  that  is  most  fascinating  and 
where  he  will  be  disposed  to  linger  longest,  both  on  ac- 
count of  its  acknowledged  charm  as  well  as  on  account  of 
its  many  historic  associations,  is  undoubtedly  the  city  of 
Panama. 

It  is  a typical  Spanish  city,  built  on  a rocky  peninsula, 
and  has  many  large  and  beautiful  stone  structures,  which 
contrast  strongly  with  the  wooden  and  galvanized  iron 
buildings  of  the  American  port  of  Colon.  Its  churches, 
notably  its  large  and  beautiful  cathedral, — one  of  the  most 
imposing  in  Latin  America — are  sure  to  claim  attention. 

Then  there  is  the  old  sea  wall,  against  which  dash  the 
breakers  of  the  Pacific,  which  now  affords  the  most  delight- 
ful promenade  in  the  city.  It  is  almost  all  that  remains  of 
the  massive  walls  that  at  one  time  girdled  the  city  and 
made  it  practically  impregnable.  The  cost  of  the  complete 

1 The  mean  annual  rainfall  at  New  York  is  42  inches,  Montreal  36  inches, 
Madrid  10  inches. 


25 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


walls  and  fortifications,  when  labor  was  almost  gratuitous, 
was  $11,000,000,  and  they  constituted,  after  those  of  Car- 
tagena, the  strongest  and  most  costly  defenses  of  any  city 
in  the  New  World.  The  walls,  still  standing,  are  in  places 
from  thirty  to  forty  feet  high  and  sixty  feet  broad,  and, 
being  of  solid  masonry,  are  still  in  a good  state  of  preser- 
vation. 

The  view  from  this  elevated  promenade  is  one  of  ex- 
ceeding beauty.  On  one  side  are  the  red-tiled  roofs  and 
pearl-covered  towers  of  the  city,  with  its  delightful  parks 
and  masses  of  feathery  palm  fronds ; on  the  other  the  em- 
erald shores  and  the  broad  sapphire  expanse  of  the  South- 
ern Sea,  dotted  with  the  verdant  isles  of  Naos,  Perico,  Ta- 
boga  and  Flamenco,  which  emerge  from  the  placid  ocean 
like  the  peaks  of  a lost  Atlantis. 

In  the  streets  of  Panama  one  will  meet  with  represen- 
tations of  every  race  and  nation.  Many  are  transients, 
others  are  engaged  in  business.  I was  surprised  at  the 
large  number  of  Chinese  merchants  in  the  city  and  their 
evident  success  in  mercantile  pursuits.  “The  Chinese,” 
one  of  them  proudly  assured  me,  “are  the  best  merchants 
in  the  world  and  can  successfully  meet  competition  any- 
where.” In  Panama  and  Colon  they  seem  to  have  the 
lion’s  share  of  the  business  and  some  of  their  larger  stores 
are  well  worth  visiting. 

But  it  is  the  refined  and  cultured  women,  the  courteous 
and  hospitable  men  of  the  old  Spanish  families,  some  of 
them  descendants  of  the  conquistadores,  who  make  the  deep- 
est impression  on  the  visitor  to  the  charming  and  restful 
metropolis  of  the  young  republic.  Many  of  them  have 
been  educated  in  Europe,  or  in  the  United  States  and  are, 
consequently,  well  informed  and  of  broad  sympathies. 
One  who  has  been  privileged  to  enjoy  their  hospitality 
and  friendship  will  ever  cherish  the  memory  of  his  asso- 
ciation with  such  delightful,  noble  people. 

Time  was  when  Panama  was  probably  the  richest  and 
most  important  city  on  the  western  hemisphere.  It  was 

26 


PLEASANT  DAYS  IN  PANAMA 


the  seat  of  a royal  audience  and  the  metropolis  through 
which  passed  the  countless  millions  of  treasure  from 
“Golden  Peru”  to  imperial  Spain.  Its  bay  was  filled  with 
well-freighted  galleons  from  every  port,  and  its  merchant 
princes  lived  a life  of  oriental  ease  and  luxury. 

If  Panama  achieved  such  distinction  when  the  commerce 
of  the  New  World  was  yet  in  its  infancy  and  was  controlled 
almost  entirely  by  the  mother  country,  what  may  we  not 
predict  of  it  when  the  great  waterway,  now  rapidly  near- 
ing completion,  shall  be  opened  to  the  merchantmen  of  all 
nations;  when  the  once  famous  city  shall  again,  but  under 
more  favorable  circumstances,  be  on  one  of  the  world’s 
greatest  highways  of  commerce,  and  when,  in  lieu  of  the 
solitary  banner  of  Castilla  and  Leon,  she  shall  see  her  placid 
harbor  gay  with  the  flags  of  every  clime,  and  pulsating  with 
deep-laden  argosies  from  every  land?  Then,  indeed,  will 
she  witness  the  fulfillment  of  the  great  designs  of  Columbus 
and  Cortes  in  favor  of  humanity  and  have  ever  at  her  gates 
a glorious  monument  to  the  energy  and  power  and  patriot- 
ism of  the  greatest  of  the  world’s  commonwealths. 


27 


CHAPTER  II 


ON  THE  GREAT  SOUTH  SEA 

After  a delightful  and  instructive  week  spent  on  the 
Isthmus,  I prepared  to  start  for  Guayaquil,  the  chief  sea- 
port of  Ecuador.  The  steamer  was  scheduled  to  leave 
promptly  at  noon,  and  all  passengers  were  requested  to  be 
aboard  about  an  hour  before  that  time.  A special  train 
conveyed  us  from  Panama  to  La  Boca — now  called  Balboa 
— where  a splendid  steel  wharf  has  been  constructed  and 
where  several  large  ocean  vessels  may  safely  and  con- 
veniently moor  at  the  same  time.  The  Pacific  entrance  to 
the  canal  is  at  this  point.  In  marked  contrast  with  the 
mean  range  of  the  tide — a little  more  than  a foot — at 
Colon,  the  range  at  Panama  is  twenty  feet.  For  a long 
time  it  was  supposed  that  the  Pacific  Ocean  was  from  ten 
to  twenty  feet  higher  than  the  Caribbean  Sea,  but  it  is  now 
known  that  both  bodies  of  water  are  at  the  same  level. 

The  view  of  the  city  of  Panama  from  the  deck  of  the 
steamer,  as  she  glides  southward  through  the  placid  waters 
of  the  bay  is  one  of  exceeding  loveliness.  Reposing  at  the 
foot  of  Ancon  Hill  and  garlanded  by  emerald  green  ver- 
dure, it  possesses  throughout  the  year  all  the  charm  of 
Palermo  in  May  or  October. 

About  six  miles  to  the  south  of  the  city  is  all  that  remains 
of  Panama  Viejo — Old  Panama — which  was  ravaged  and 
burned  by  that  ruthless  Welsh  Buccaneer,  Sir  Henry  Mor- 
gan, in  1671.  Aside  from  an  arch  of  a bridge  and  the 
foundations  of  some  of  the  more  notable  buildings,  now  con- 
cealed by  a dense  network  of  shrub  and  vine,  and  over- 
spread by  a thick-matted  forest,  almost  all  that  now  re- 
mains of  this  former  “Gate  of  the  Western  World”  is  the 

28 


ON  THE  GREAT  SOUTH  SEA 

massive  and  picturesque  old  tower  of  the  Cathedral  of  St. 
Anastasius. 

Old  Panama  was  founded  in  1518  by  Pedrarias  Davila — 
that  Furor  Dei — Scourge  of  God — as  he  was  called,  on  ac- 
count of  his  cruelties,  on  the  site  recommended  by  Balboa, 
and  was  the  oldest  European  city  on  the  mainland  of  the 
New  World.  The  word  Panama  is  of  Indian  origin  and 
signifies  “abounding  in  fish.”  On  the  seashore  hard  by 
were  “quantities  of  very  small  mussels,”  and  it  is  said  that 
these  mussel  beds  determined  the  site  of  the  future  metrop- 
olis “because  the  Spaniards  felt  themselves  safe  from  hun- 
ger on  account  of  these  mussels.” 

For  a long  time  Old  Panama  was,  after  Cartagena,  the 
chief  city  of  South  America.  It  was  celebrated  as  the 
“glorious  city  of  Panama,”  as  “the  grandest  metropolis 
in  the  South  Seas,”  as  the  peer  of  Venice  when  the  painted 
city  of  the  doges  was  yet  “the  incomparable  Queene”  of 
the  Adriatic.  It  was  from  this  city  that  the  conquista- 
dores  set  forth  on  their  marvelous  careers  of  discovery 
and  conquest.  It  was  from  here  that  the  Pizarros  and  Al- 
magro  and  Bellacazar  sailed  to  Golden  Peru.  To  the  har- 
bor of  Panama  came  the  rich  galleons  laden  with  the  gold 
and  silver  from  the  land  of  the  Incas  and  with  the  pearls 
from  the  islands  of  the  South  Sea. 

It  was  then  “the  greatest  mart  for  gold  and  silver  in 
the  whole  world.”  And  “as  the  city  grew  in  wealth,  so  it 
grew  in  magnificence,  in  the  costliness  of  its  buildings,  in 
the  extravagance  of  its  luxuries  and  in  that  languid  sensu- 
ousness which  saps  life  in  the  tropics.”  Its  merchant 
princes  lived  like  oriental  satraps  in  stone  houses  of  Moor- 
ish design,  finished  in  carved  aromatic  woods  and  decked 
with  the  most  beautiful  tapestries  and  works  of  art  that 
money  could  command.  And  as  they  appeared  in  public, 
in  lace-decked  attire  or  brocaded  silk,  with  their  retinue  of 
slaves,  they  may  well  have  outshone  the  gorgeously  dressed 
Venetians  who,  in  days  long  passed,  strutted  before  an  ad- 
miring crowd  in  the  famed  old  Eialto. 

29 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Old  Panama  was  the  western  terminus  of  the  famous 
Gold  Road,  the  camino  real,  over  which  long  lines  of  mule 
trains  carried  countless  millions  of  treasure  to  Venta  Cruz, 
Puerto  Bello  and  Nombre  de  Dios,  on  the  way  from  Peru 
to  Spain.  Over  this  road  traveled  Drake  and  Morgan  and 
other  freebooters  of  lesser  note. 

The  old  harbor,  too,  has  witnessed  as  stirring  scenes  as 
did  the  Gold  Road,  for  here  took  place  some  of  the  most 
daring  exploits  of  certain  of  the  Buccaneers,  notably  that 
of  Sawkins,  Coxon  and  Ringrose  in  their  capture  of  the 
famous  old  galleon,  La  Santisima  Trinidad.  The  harbor 
“that  saw  all  this,”  says  Treves,  “is  now  an  utter  solitude, 
silent  and  forgotten,  a sea-refuge  hidden  in  a mysterious 
forest,  a place  of  shadows,  haunted  only  by  pelicans  and 
sea  birds,  and  where  none  but  the  ghosts  of  ships  come  in 
on  the  rising  tide.”1  Verily,  sic  transit  gloria  mandi. 

Some  forty  or  fifty  miles  southeast  of  Panama,  we 
passed  the  famous  group  of  Pearl  Islands  which  attracted 
so  much  attention  at  the  time  of  their  discovery  by  Balboa, 
and  which  were  for  a long  time  so  prolific  a source  of  rev- 
enue for  the  Spanish  crown.  From  the  view-point  of 
many  of  his  countrymen,  Balboa’s  most  important  achieve- 
ment in  crossing  the  Isthmus  of  Panama  was  not  in  discov- 
ering the  boundless  expanse  of  the  South  Sea — an  achieve- 
ment second  only  to  that  of  Columbus — but  in  making 
known  that  group  of  islands  which,  next  to  the  mines  of 
Peru,  contributed  most  to  the  coffers  of  the  Spanish  mon- 
arch. 

Pearls  were  then  so  common  that  the  Indians  used  them 
for  adorning  the  paddles  of  their  canoes.  The  chief  of  Ter- 
arequi — the  largest  of  the  Pearl  Islands — gave  to  Gaspar 
Morales,  who  visited  the  place  two  years  after  Balboa’s  dis- 
covery— a basketful  of  pearls  that  weighed  one  hundred 
and  ten  marks — nearly  nine  hundred  ounces — for  which  he 
received  in  exchange  glass  beads,  mirrors,  hawk-bells  and 
similar  articles  of  little  value.  In  addition  to  this  he  prom- 

i Cradle  of  the  Deep,  p.  339,  London,  1908. 

30 


ON  THE  GREAT  SOUTH  SEA 


ised  to  send  to  the  Spanish  monarch  thenceforth  an  annual 
tribute  of  one  hundred  marks  of  pearls.  Some  of  these 
pearls  were  as  large  as  filberts  and  of  exceeding  beauty  of 
form  and  luster,  while  others  found  in  the  same  fisheries 
a short  time  subsequently  at  once  took  place  among  the 
largest  and  most  perfect  of  the  world’s  gems. 

Oviedo,  in  the  quaint  translation  of  Eden,  refers  to  the 
pearls  of  Terarequi  and  of  the  adjoining  islands  as  follows : 

“Lykewise  pearles  are  found  and  gathered  in  the  South 
Sea  cauled  Mare  del  Sur.  And  the  pearles  of  tins  Sea” 
and  the  Caribbean  Sea  “are  verye  bygge.  Yet  not  so  bigge 
as  they  of  the  Ilande  of  pearles  cauled  de  las  perlas  or 
Margarita,  which  the  Indians  caul  Terareque,  lying  in  the 
goulfe  of  Saincte  Michael  where  greater  pearles  are  founde 
and  of  greater  price  then  in  any  other  coaste  of  the  Northe 
Sea,  in  Cumana,  or  in  any  other  parte.  I speake  this  as  a 
trewe  testimonie  of  syght  having  been  longe  in  that  South 
Sea,  and  makynge  curious  inquisition  to  bee  certenly  in- 
formed of  all  that  perteyneth  to  the  fysshynge  of  pearles. 
From  this  Ilande  of  Terarequi,  there  was  brought  a pearle 
of  the  fasshyon  of  a peare,  wayunge  XXXI.  carattes,  which 
Petrus  A rias  had  amonge  a thousande  and  so  many  poundes 
weight  of  other  pearles  which  hee  had  when  captayne  Gas- 
par  Morales  (before  Petrus  Arias)  passed  to  the  saide 
ilande  in  the  yeare  1515,  which  pearle  was  of  great  price. 
From  the  said  Ilande  also,  came  a great  and  verye  rounde 
pearle,  which  I brought  oute  of  the  sea.  This  was  as  bigge 
as  a smaule  pellet  of  a stone  bowe  and  of  the  weight  of 
XXVI.  Carattes.  I bought  it  in  the  citie  of  Panama  in  the 
sea  of  Sur : and  paide  for  it  syxe  liundreth  and  syxtie  tymes 
the  weyght  thereof  of  good  gold,  and  had  it  thre  yeares  in 
my  custodie : and  after  my  returne  into  Spaine,  soulde  it  to 
the  earle  of  Nansao,  Marquesse  of  Zenete,  great  chamber- 
leyne  to  yowre  maiestie,  who  gave  it  to  the  Marquesse  his 
wyfe,  the  lady  Mentia  of  Mendozza.  I thyncke  verely  that 
this  pearl  was  the  greatest,  fayrest  and  roundest  that 
hath  byn  seene  in  those  partes.  For  yowre  maiestie  owght 

31 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


to  understande  that  in  the  coaste  of  the  sea  of  Sur,  there 
are  fonnde  a hundreth  great  pearles  rounde  after  the 
fasshyon  of  a peare,  to  one,  that  is  perfectly  rounde  and 
greate.  This  Ilande  of  Terarequi,  which  the  Christeans 
caule  the  Ilande  of  pearles,  and  others  caule  the  Ilande  of 
flowres,  is  founde  in  the  eyght  degree  of  the  southe  syde 
of  the  firme  lande  in  the  provynce  of  Golden  Castyle  or 
Beragua.”  1 

The  pearling  industry  in  these  waters  was  an  important 
one  until  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  the  size 
and  orient  of  the  pearls  obtained  rivaled  those  of  Ceylon. 
After  this  date  pearling  gradually  declined,  although  sev- 
eral ineffective  attempts  have  been  made  to  revive  the  in- 
dustry. The  fisherman,  however,  is  still  occasionally  re- 
warded by  the  finding  of  a large  and  valuable  pearl.  A 
few  years  before  my  visit  a native  boy,  aged  fifteen,  found 
a pearl  for  which  he  received  $1,760,  and  for  which  an  offer 
of  thirty  thousand  francs  was  subsequently  refused  in 
Paris.  Another  pearl,  worth  $2,400,  had  been  found,  so 
we  were  informed,  quite  near  the  steamer  anchorage  at 
Panama. 

A few  leagues  east  from  the  Pearl  Archipelago,  is  San 
Miguel  Bay.  This  place  had  a special  interest  for  us,  as  it 
was  in  the  waters  of  the  north  shore  of  this  bay  that  Bal- 
boa, sword  in  hand,  formally  took  possession  of  the  South 
Sea  for  the  crown  of  Castile.  Leaving  the  Caribbean  at 
some  point  between  Cape  Tiburon  and  Caledonian  Bay,  he 
cut  his  way  through  the  dense  forests  and  savage  jungles 
that  impeded  his  march  until  at  last  on  the  memorable  25tli 
of  September,  1513, 

i The  First  Three  English  Books  on  America,  p.  214,  edited  by  Edward 
Arber,  London,  1895. 

The  historian  Acosta,  who  went  to  Peru  in  1570,  writing  of  the  vast 
quantity  of  pearls  found  in  these  islands  and  elsewhere  in  the  New  World, 
says,  “At  the  first  pearles  were  in  so  great  estimation,  as  none  but  royall 
persons  were  suffered  to  weare  them,  but  at  this  day  there  is  such  abundance 
as  that  the  negresses  themselves  do  weare  chaines  thereof.”  Op.  cit.,  Book 
IV,  Chap.  XV. 


32 


ON  THE  GREAT  SOUTH  SEA 


“With  eagle  eyes 

He  stared  at  the  Pacific, — and  all  his  men 
Look’d  at  each  other  with  a wild  surmise, — 

Silent  upon  a peak  in  Darien.”  1 

As  the  vast  expanse  of  waters,  on  which  Balboa’s  ecstatic 
gaze  was  then  riveted,  was  south  of  the  point  where  he 
stood  and  south  of  his  point  of  departure  from  the  Northern 
Sea,  as  the  Atlantic  was  then  called,  the  discoverer  called 
it  Mar  del  Sur — Sea  of  the  South — a name  it  long  retained. 
Magellan,  in  1520,  after  escaping  from  the  sudden  and  vio- 
lent tempests,  to  which  he  was  exposed  during  the  passage 
of  the  strait  which  now  bears  his  name,  called  the  southern 
part  of  the  ocean,  discovered  by  Balboa,  the  Pacific.  “Well 
was  it  named  the  Pacific,”  writes  Pigafetta,  who  accom- 
panied Magellan  on  this  voyage,  “for  during  this  time” — 
three  months  and  twenty  days,  that  they  were  on  this  ocean 
— “we  met  with  no  storm.”  2 

So  elated  was  Balboa  over  his  epoch-making  discovery 
that  he,  says  Peter  Martyr,  “with  no  lesse  manlye  corage 
than  Hanniball  of  Carthage  shewed  his  souldiers  Italye 
and  the  promontories  of  the  Alps,  exhorted  his  men  to  lyft 
up  their  hartes,  and  to  behoulde  the  land  even  now  under 
theyre  feete  and  the  sea  before  theyre  eyes,  whiche  shoulde 
bee  unto  them  a full  and  iust  rewarde  of  theyre  great  la- 
boures  and  trauayles  now  ouerpassed.  When  he  had  sayde 
these  woordes,  he  commanded  them  to  raise  certeine  heapes 
of  stones  in  the  steede  of  alters  for  a token  of  possession. 
Then  descendynge  from  the  toppes  of  the  mountaynes,  least 
such  as  might  come  after  hym  shoulde  argue  hym  of  lyinge 
and  falshod,  he  wrote  the  Kynge  of  Castelles  name  here 
and  there  on  the  barkes  of  the  trees  bothe  on  the  ryght 

1 By  inadvertence,  Keats,  in  the  beautiful  sonnet  from  which  the  above 
verses  are  taken,  credits  Cortes,  instead  of  Balboa,  with  the  discovery  of 
the  Pacific. 

2 The  First  Voyage  of  Magellan,  translated  from  the  accounts  of  Antonio 
Pigafetta  by  Lord  Stanley  of  Alderley  for  the  Hakluyt  Society,  p.  65,  Lon- 
don, 1874.  Pigafetta,  on  his  map,  calls  the  South  Sea  Mare  Pacifico. 

33 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


hande  and  on  the  lefte;  and  raysed  heapes  of  stones  all 
the  way  that  he  went,  untyll  he  came  to  the  region  of 
the  nexte  Kynge  towarde  the  south  whose  name  was 
Chiapes.”  1 

This  was  taking  possession  of  the  South  Sea  from  a dis- 
tance. The  act  of  taking  possession  on  arriving  at  the 
north  shore  of  the  Gulf  of  San  Miguel  was  accompanied 
with  much  greater  formality  and  ceremony.  And  so  typ- 
ical is  it  of  similar  performances  of  the  conquistadores 
that  I transcribe  from  Oviedo  his  account  of  the  manner 
in  which  Balboa  and  his  companions  claimed  for  his  sov- 
ereigns the  Sea  of  the  South,  all  islands  in  it  and  all  lands 
bordering  on  it  in  what  part  of  the  world  soever.  Armed 
with  his  sword  and  shield  and  bearing  aloft  a banner  on 
which  were  painted  an  image  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  and  the 
Divine  Child  and  the  arms  of  Castile  and  Leon,  Balboa, 
followed  by  his  associates,  entered  the  water  until  it  rose 
above  his  knees,  when  in  a loud  voice  he  said: 

“Long  live  the  high  and  mighty  monarchs,  Don  Ferdi- 
nand and  Donna  Juana,  sovereigns  of  Castile,  of  Leon  and 
of  Aragon  in  whose  name  and  for  the  royal  crown  of  Cas- 
tile, I take  real  and  corporal  and  actual  possession  of  these 
seas  and  lands  and  coasts  and  ports  and  islands  of  the  South 
and  all  thereunto  annexed;  and  of  the  kingdoms  and  prov- 
inces which  do  or  may  appertain  to  them  in  whatever  man- 
ner or  by  whatever  right  or  title,  ancient  or  modern,  in 
times  past,  present  or  to  come,  without  any  contradiction; 
and  if  other  prince  or  captain,  Christian  or  infidel,  or  of 
any  law,  sect  or  condition  whatsoever,  shall  pretend  any 
right  to  these  lands  and  seas,  I am  ready  and  prepared  to 
maintain  and  defend  them  in  the  name  of  the  Castilian 
sovereigns,  present  and  future,  whose  is  the  empire  and 
dominion  over  these  Indias,  islands. and  terra  firma,  north- 
ern and  southern,  with  all  their  seas,  both  at  the  arctic  and 
antarctic  poles,  on  either  side  of  the  equinoctial  line, 
whether  within  or  without  the  tropics  of  Cancer  and  Cap- 

i Eden,  Op.  cit.,  p.  139. 


34 


ON  THE  GREAT  SOUTH  SEA 


ricorn,  both  now  and  in  all  times,  as  long  as  the  world  en- 
dures, and  until  the  final  judgment  of  all  mankind.”  1 

After  this  swelling  proclamation  by  their  leader,  his  fol- 
lowers expressed  themselves  in  a similar  manner  and  then 
the  notary,  who  always  accompanied  such  expeditions,  was 
ordered  to  make  on  the  spot,  an  exact  record  of  what  had 
been  said  and  done,  which  was  duly  signed  and  authenti- 
cated by  all  present. 

There  was,  the  reader  may  say,  something  Quixotic  in 
such  proceedings,  but  be  that  as  it  may,  the  Spanish  ex- 
plorer precluded  by  this  means  the  possibility  on  the  part 
of  any  one  who  came  after  him  to  “argue  hym  of  lyinge 
and  falshod.” 

So  long  as  we  were  in  the  Gulf  of  Panama,  the  Sea  of  the 
South  was  tranquillity  itself  and  almost  mirror-like  in  ap- 
pearance. We  then  had  ocular  evidence  of  the  appropriate- 
ness of  the  name  of  the  Bay  of  Calms,  which  has  been  given 
to  these  waters.  The  sea  could  not  be  more  placid  in  the 
Doldrums.  But  after  we  attained  the  high  sea,  beyond  the 
limits  of  the  Gulf  of  Panama,  the  ocean  became  so  rough 
that  few  were  disposed  to  see  anything  pacific  about  it. 
It  was  not  at  any  time  so  tempestuous  as  I had  frequently 
found  it  in  higher  latitudes,  but  the  motion  of  the  steamer 
was  so  violent  that  many  of  the  passengers  were  compelled 
to  take  to  their  berths. 

Although  we  never  encountered  any  of  the  furious  tem- 
pests which  “lash  the  sea  into  fury,”  or  saw  any  of  the 
“boiling  surges”  which  Prescott  tells  us  threatened  with 
destruction  the  flimsy  barks  of  Pizarro  and  his  companions, 
we  never  ceased  to  marvel  at  the  daring  of  that  adventur- 
ous band,  who,  braving  the  dangers  of  an  unknown  sea, 
set  forth  to  conquer  the  powerful  empire  of  the  Incas.  As 
an  exhibition  of  tireless  energy,  continuity  of  purpose  in 
face  of  apparently  insuperable  obstacles,  and  triumphant 

i Historia  General  y Natural  de  las  Indias  Islas  y Tierra  Firme  del  Mar 
Oceano,  por  El  Capitan  Gonzalo  Fernandez  de  Oviedo  y Valdez,  Lib.  XXIX, 
Cap.  Ill,  Madrid,  1853. 


35 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


achievement  after  untold  suffering  and  dangers  innumer- 
able, the  expedition  of  Pizarro  quite  eclipses  everything  of 
the  kind  recorded  in  the  annals  of  conquest  in  any  part  of 
the  world. 

It  was  not  only  with  known  dangers — wind,  rain,  light- 
ning, tempestuous  seas,  formidable  gales — that  they  had 
to  contend.  They  had  had  experience  of  all  these  on  the 
Atlantic.  It  was  rather  with  unknown  dangers  which  were 
in  many  respects  greater  than  any  which  they  had  ever  en- 
countered elsewhere.  There  were  dangers  from  fever- 
laden jungles,  miasmatic  swamps,  savage  Indians,  clouds 
of  pestiferous  insects,  that  left  them  no  rest  day  or  night. 
There  were  dangers  from  famine  and  strange  diseases 
that  prostrated  and  carried  off  the  strongest  of  their  num- 
ber in  a few  hours.  There  was  danger  from  the  breeze 
which,  in  that  part  of  the  world,  blows  toward  the  north 
for  the  greater  part  of  the  year  and  makes  sailing  against 
it,  for  the  long  distances  the  Spaniards  had  to  travel,  a 
matter  of  extreme  difficulty.  And  there  was,  too,  danger 
from  the  sea-current — now  known  as  the  Humboldt  cur- 
rent— that  greatly  impeded  progress  and  often  imperiled 
the  safety  of  vessels  and  crews.  This  immense  and  power- 
ful current  was  as  new  to  them  as  was  the  Gulf  Stream  to 
Columbus,  and  caused  them  as  much  anxiety  and  trouble. 
The  philosophers  of  the  time,  ignorant  of  its  cause,  attrib- 
uted it,  as  they  did  many  other  natural  phenomena,  to  the 
influence  of  the  primum  mobile,  but  knew  not  what  pro- 
vision to  make  against  its  incessant  action  in  the  broad  ex- 
panse where  it  was  so  dominant. 

We  could  have  wished  to  visit — or  at  least  get  a glimpse 
of — the  islands  of  Gorgona  and  Gallo,  but  they  were  much 
nearer  the  coast  than  the  course  taken  by  our  steamer. 
These,  especially  the  latter,  are  famous  landmarks  in  the 
earlier  expeditions  of  Pizarro  and  his  adventurous  fol- 
lowers. 

It  was  on  this  island,  little  more  than  a barren  rock, 
that  Pizarro  announced  to  his  timid  and  discouraged  com- 

36 


ON  THE  GREAT  SOUTH  SEA 


panions  in  arms  his  determination  to  continue  the  prose- 
cution of  his  enterprise  after  it  had  been  pronounced  by 
all  to  be  a forlorn  hope. 

“Drawing  his  sword,”  Montesinos  tells  us,  “he  traced  a 
line  with  it  on  the  sand  from  east  to  west,  then,  turning  to- 
ward the  south,  ‘Friends  and  comrades!’  he  said,  ‘on  that 
side  are  toil,  hunger,  nakedness,  the  drenching  storm,  de- 
sertion and  death;  on  this  side,  ease  and  pleasure.  There 
lies  Peru  with  its  riches;  here  Panama  and  its  poverty. 
Choose,  each  man,  what  best  becomes  a brave  Castilian. 
For  my  part  I go  to  the  south,”  and  so  saying,  he  stepped 
across  the  line.  He  was  followed  by  his  brave  pilot  Buiz, 
a Greek  cavalier  named  Pedro  de  Candia,  and  eleven  oth- 
ers, who,  Montesinos  continues,  “thus,  in  the  face  of  diffi- 
culties unexampled  in  history,  with  death  rather  than  riches 
for  their  reward,  preferred  it  all  to  abandoning  their 
honor,  and  stood  firm  by  their  leader  as  an  example  to  all 
future  ages.”  1 

Commenting  on  this  soul-stirring  episode  in  the  career 
of  the  intrepid  conquistador,  Prescott  well  interprets  the 
sentiments  of  the  reader  in  the  following  eloquent  para- 
graph : — 

“There  is  something  striking  to  the  imagination  in  the 
spectacle  of  these  few  brave  spirits  thus  consecrating  them- 
selves to  a daring  enterprise,  which  seemed  as  far  above 
their  strength  as  any  recorded  in  the  fabulous  annals  of 
knight-errantry.  A handful  of  men,  without  food,  without 
clothing,  almost  without  arms,  without  knowledge  of  the 
land  to  which  they  were  bound,  without  vessel  to  transport 
them,  were  here  left  on  a lonely  rock  on  the  ocean  with  the 
avowed  purpose  of  carrying  on  a crusade  against  a power- 
ful empire,  staking  their  lives  on  its  success.  What  is 
there  in  the  legends  of  chivalry  that  surpasses  it?  This 
was  the  crisis  in  Pizarro’s  fate.  There  are  moments  in 
the  lives  of  men,  which,  as  they  are  seized  or  neglected, 

1 A nales  del  Peru , Tom.  I,  p.  61,  publicados  por  Victor  M.  Maurtua,  del 
Instituto  Historico  del  Pei'u,  Madrid,  1906. 

37 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


decide  their  future  destiny.  Had  Pizarro  faltered  from  his 
strong  purpose,  and  yielded  to  the  occasion,  now  so  tempt- 
ingly presented,  for  extricating  himself  and  his  broken 
band  from  their  desperate  position,  his  name  would  have 
been  buried  with  his  fortunes,  and  the  conquest  of  Peru 
would  have  been  left  for  other  and  more  successful  adven- 
turers. But  his  constancy  was  equal  to  the  occasion 
and  his  conduct  here  proved  him  competent  to  the  peril- 
ous post  he  had  assumed,  and  inspired  others  with 
a confidence  in  him  which  was  the  best  assurance  of 
success.”  1 

About  two  days  after  leaving  Panama,  we  crossed  the 
equator.  Neptune,  however,  and  his  retinue  did  not  ap- 
pear to  baptize  those  who  crossed  the  line  for  the  first 
time.  Many  of  the  passengers  had  never  been  in  the  trop- 
ics before,  and  for  them  the  passing  from  one  hemisphere 
into  another  was  an  extraordinary  event.  But,  although 
all  carefully  noted  the  exact  moment  when  they  entered 
the  southern  half  of  the  world,  I do  not  think  many  of 
them  were  so  impressed  by  the  fact  as  were  Spix  and 
Martius  in  the  early  part  of  the  last  century,  when  on  their 
way  to  Brazil.  “This  moment,”  they  declared,  “was  the 
most  solemn  and  sacred  in  our  lives.”  But  there  was  a 
special  reason  for  such  profound  emotion  in  their  case. 
They  were  then  drawing  nigh  to  Brazil,  the  land  where 
they  immortalized  themselves  by  their  researches  and  ex- 
plorations, which  so  greatly  extended  the  domain  of  natural 
knowledge.  In  this  moment  of  crossing  the  equinoctial 
line,  “We  saw,”  they  continue,  “the  longings  of  earlier 
years  accomplished — and  with  pure  joy  and  enthusiastic 
anticipation,  we  indulged  in  the  foretaste  of  a new  world 
so  rich  in  the  wonders  of  nature.  ’ ’ 2 

I must  confess,  however,  that  I experienced  similar  feel- 
ings when  I found  myself  crossing  the  boundary  that  sepa- 
rates the  northern  from  the  southern  half  of  our  planet.  I 

1 The  Conquest  of  Peru,  Book  I,  Chap.  IV. 

2 Travels  in  Brazil  in  the  Years  1817-20,  Vol.  I,  p.  117,  London,  1ST24. 

38 


ON  THE  GREAT  SOUTH  SEA 


had  from  my  boyhood  dreamed  of  just  this  moment  and 
had  for  many  long  decades  cherished  the  hope  that  I might 
one  day  have  an  opportunity  of  visiting  the  lands  of  the 
Incas  and  the  Aymaras  and  of  gazing  on  the  sublime  scen- 
ery of  the  Andes  and  the  superb  exhibitions  of  plant  life 
on  the  Amazon  and  its  tributaries.  The  dream  was  now 
about  to  be  realized,  and  the  longings  of  a lifetime  were 
soon  to  be  satisfied. 

The  crossing  of  the  equinoctial  brought  with  it  not  only 
a change  in  the  earth’s  surface,  but  also  a change  in  the 
aspect  of  the  heavens.  The  moment  we  crossed  the  line, 
Polaris,  that  had  been  our  guiding  star  in  journeyings  in- 
numerable, dropped  below  the  horizon  and  was  not  again 
seen  until  long  months  afterwards.  New  stars  and  new 
constellations  replaced  those  we  had  left  behind  and  made 
us  feel  that  we  had  suddenly  been  made  spectators  of  a 
new  heaven  and  a new  earth. 

The  spectacle  afforded  by  the  setting  sun  the  evening  we 
crossed  the  line  was  gorgeous  beyond  description.  The 
western  horizon  was  fringed  with  tenuous,  flocculent  clouds, 
which  soon  blazed  with  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  Bril- 
liant, almost  blinding  at  first,  they  gradually  assumed  the 
subdued  hues  of  early  autumn  leaves.  There  were  delicate 
tints  of  green  and  gold,  red  and  brown,  purple  and  prim- 
rose. Anon,  as  the  descending  sun  touched  the  ocean  wave, 
multicolored,  luminous  rays  shot  forth  fanwise  and  suf- 
fused the  translucent  azure  of  the  celestial  vault  with  won- 
drous jewel  lights  as  of  vaporized  ruby  and  topaz  and 
sapphire.  Rarely,  indeed,  in  our  northern  zones,  outside 
the  magic  color  displays  of  the  Aurora  Borealis,  does  one 
witness  such  splendor  of  rose  and  scarlet,  such  glowing 
of  nacre  and  gleaming  of  opaline  fire,  as  it  was  our  privi- 
lege to  behold  on  that  memorable  evening  in  the  South  Sea. 
The  sun-god  seemed  loathe  to  depart  from  the  world  that 
he  had  illumined  and  beautified,  for  scarcely  had  he 
dropped  below  the  ocean’s  edge,  when  he  flashed  through 
the  skies,  even  to  the  zenith,  swift  coruscations  as  if  to 

39 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


show  by  this  glorious  pageantry  that  he  was  triumphant 
even  in  exile.1 

Never  before  was  I so  impressed  by  the  solemnities  of 
sea  and  sky,  as  in  the  equatorial  Pacific;  never  before  was 
I so  fascinated  by  the  witchery  of  the  infinite,  as  when 
contemplating  the  deep,  shoreless  ocean  and  the  blue,  cloud- 
less heavens  in  the  favored  clime  of  the  Southern  Cross. 
What  tenderness  of  tint  in  the  soft  rose  light  of  dawn,  what 
caresses  of  color  in  the  sunset’s  crimson  glow!  During 
the  daytime  what  delicate  color  dances  on  the  emerald 
waves,  and  what  splendor  of  translucent  azure  in  the  firma- 
ment above!  And  at  night,  what  sublime  beauty  in  the 
starry  canopy  with  its  millions  of  suns  in  unfathomable 
space ! 

Here  Nature  seems  to  revel  in  the  unveiled  magnificence 
of  her  ever-varying  moods.  Whether  one  contemplates 
her  when  the  breath  of  dawn  sows  with  ripples  the  quick- 
silver sea,  or  when  the  ocean  shifts  color  with  each  suc- 
ceeding swell  and  exhibits  transformations  of  tint  for  every 
form  and  motion  of  wave,  or  when  the  waters  of  the  deep, 
under  a dark  sky,  phosphoresce  and  sparkle  with  animated 
billows,  or  when  the  gathering  gloom  is  thrilled  by  twin- 
kling constellations  overhead,  she  is  ever  an  object  of  awe, 
of  inexpressible  loveliness  beyond  the  power  of  poet  or 

i The  statement,  frequently  made,  even  by  travelers  in  the  tropics,  that 
there  is  no  twilight  in  the  equatorial  zone  is  quite  erroneous.  When  Cole- 
ridge, in  The  Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner,  sings 

“The  sun’s  rim  dips;  the  stars  rush  out: 

At  one  stride  comes  the  dark;” 

we  make  allowance  for  poetical  license,  but  when  a scientific  explorer,  like 
Crevaux  tells  us  in  his  Voyages  dans  l’Am6rique  du  Sud,  p.  104,  that  Le 
voile  de  la  nuit  va  se  lever  presque  aussi  rapidment  qu’un  rideau  de  the&tre 
— the  veil  of  night  rises  almost  as  quickly  as  a drop-curtain — he  not  only 
exaggerates  but  misleads.  It  is  true  that  at  the  equator,  where  the  sun 
descends  vertically  instead  of  obliquely  below  the  horizon  as  it  does  in  tem- 
perate and  polar  zones,  that  the  transition  from  day  to  night  and  vice 
versa  is  more  rapid  than  it  is  with  us  in  midsummer,  but  it  is  only  about 
a third  shorter  than  our  twilight  at  the  equinoxes. 

40 


ON  THE  GREAT  SOUTH  SEA 

painter  to  portray,  beyond  their  power  even  fully  to  com- 
prehend. 

Old  Xenophanes  must  have  been  enthralled  by  the  magic 
spell  of  such  bright  blue  skies,  as  one  sees  in  the  tropics, 
when  he  declared  that  the  infinite  blue  is  God.  And 
Hermes  must  have  been  permeated  with  the  wondrous, 
gladdening,  vivifying  rays  of  an  equatorial  sun  when  he 
asserted  that  “The  sun  is  laughter;  for  it  is  he  who  maketh 
joyous  the  thoughts  of  men  and  gladdeneth  the  infinite 
world.” 

How  often,  while  gazing  at  the  multiform  changes 
wrought  on  the  face  of  the  tranquil  Pacific,  when  breathed 
upon  by  the  gentlest  of  zephyrs,  how  often,  when  watching 
the  ceaseless  play  of  light  and  color  in  the  curling  wavelets 
and  admiring  the  inexpressible  beauty  and  luminosity  of 
every  swell  and  ripple,  have  I not  recalled  that  exquisite 
picture  of  HDschylus — the  many-twinkling  smiles  of  Ocean 

‘ ‘ ttovtuov  Se  Kv/xdroiv  avr/piO/xov  yeX.au/xa.  ’ ’ 


And  how  often,  too,  have  I not  heard  ringing  in  my  ears 
the  words  of  Lafcadio  Hearn’s  superb  apostrophe  to  the 
sea : — 

“Thou  primordial  Sea,  the  awfulness  of  whose  antiquity 
hath  stricken  all  mythology  dumb ; thou  most  wrinkled,  liv- 
ing Sea,  the  millions  of  whose  years  outnumber  the  multi- 
tude of  thy  hoary  motions ; — thou  omniform  and  most  mys- 
terious Sea,  mother  of  the  monsters  and  the  gods, — whence 
thine  eternal  youth?  Still  do  thy  waters  hold  the  infinite 
thrill  of  that  Spirit  which  brooded  over  thy  face  in  the  be- 
ginning ! — still  is  thy  quickening  breath  an  elixir  unto  them 
that  flee  to  thee  for  life, — like  the  breath  of  young  girls, 
like  the  breath  of  children,  prescribed  for  the  senescent  by 
magicians  of  old, — prescribed  unto  weazened  elders  in  the 
books  of  the  Wizards.”  1 

Aside  from  the  marvel  afforded  by  the  magnificent  sun- 

i Chita:  A Memory  of  Lost  Island,  p.  162,  New  York,  1889. 

41 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


set  just  noted,  there  was  another  revelation  of  a different 
character  awaiting  most  of  the  passengers  on  the  boat, 
especially  for  those  who  had  come  from  the  north.  They 
had  fancied,  on  leaving  their  homes  that  they  would  have 
to  endure  intense  heat  in  the  tropics,  particularly  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  equator.  Pleasant,  therefore,  was 
their  surprise  when,  the  second  day  after  leaving  the  Gulf 
of  Panama,  they  found  that  the  atmosphere,  far  from 
being  hot  and  sweltering,  was  cool  and  refreshing.  And 
so  cool  indeed  was  it  after  sunset  here  that  the  women 
called  for  their  wraps,  and  after  crossing  the  equinoctial, 
I saw  many  of  them  at  nightfall  using  their  furs  and  lap- 
robes.  This  seems  incredible,  but  such  is  the  tempering 
influence  of  the  Humboldt  current,  that  carries  northward 
the  glacial  waters  of  antarctic  seas,  that  the  temperature 
of  the  Pacific,  along  the  west  coast  of  South  America,  is  far 
lower  than  is  ordinarily  supposed,  and  much  below  the 
temperature  of  the  ocean  in  corresponding  latitudes  in 
other  parts  of  the  world.1 

How  different  was  the  region  of  the  equator,  as  we  found 
it  during  this  voyage,  from  what  it  was  conceived  to  be 
by  the  philosophers  of  old!  According  to  Aristotle  and 
Pliny,  whose  teachings  had  defenders  even  among  the 
learned  men  of  Salamanca,  who  had  been  delegated  to 
examine  the  plans  of  Columbus  for  a westward  passage  to 
India,  the  torrid  or  burning  zone,  at  least  that  part  of  it 
directly  under  the  equator,  was  uninhabitable  and  unpro- 
ductive, and,  by  reason  of  the  excessive  heat  which  was 
supposed  to  prevail  there,  impassable.2 

1 Francisco  de  Xeres,  the  secretary  of  Francisco  Pizarro,  informs  us  that 
the  Spaniards,  while  sailing  in  these  waters  on  their  way  to  Peru,  “suffered 
great  hardships  from  hunger  and  cold” — pasando  grandes  trdbajos,  hamlres 
y frios.  Historiadores  Primitivos  de  Indias,  Coleccion  Dirigida  6 Illustrada 
por  D.  Enrique  de  Vedia,  Tom.  II,  p.  321,  Madrid,  1906. 

2 The  historian  Acosta,  who  went  to  Peru  in  1570,  narrating  his  experience 

when  crossing  the  equator,  writes  as  follows:  “Having  read  what  Poets  and 

Philosophers  write  of  the  burning  zone  I perswaded  my  selfe,  that  comming 
to  the  Equinoctiall,  I should  not  indure  the  violent  heate,  but  it  fell  out 
otherwise;  for  when  I passed,  which  was  when  the  sun  was  there  for  Zenith, 

42 


ON  THE  GREAT  SOUTH  SEA 


If  the  southern  hemisphere  was  habitable,  as  Aristotle 
believed,  it  was  forever  inaccessible  from  the  north  tem- 
perate regions  of  the  globe.  “In  this  central  region,  where 
the  sun  runs  his  course,  the  earth,”  Pliny  declares,  “is 
burnt  up  as  with  fire.”  Fish  and  whales,  it  was  averred, 
could  not  exist  in  the  tropical  ocean.  Only  marine  sala- 
manders, if  there  were  such  creatures,  could  find  a home 
in  its  superheated  waters. 

And  yet,  strange  coincidence!  in  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  the  equinoctial  line,  we  saw  a whale,  one  of  those  mon- 
sters of  the  deep  that  the  poet  Spenser  has  so  felicitously 
described  by  a single  adjective — “sea-shouldering.”  We 
saw  also  great  schools  of  flying-fish,  those  strange  repre- 
sentatives of  the  finny  tribe,  that  would  contest  with  the 
birds  the  domain  of  the  atmosphere.  The  Spaniards  call 
them  Golondrinas — swallows — and  their  peculiar  gliding 
motion  in  the  air  really  does  remind  one  of  the  flight  of 
swallows.  To  us  they  seemed  more  like  miniature  aero- 
planes, as  they  flitted  hither  and  thither,  skimming  and 
scudding  the  waves  in  their  effort  to  escape  their  pursuing 
enemy. 

Their  power  of  flight  is  due  not  to  wings  but  to  highly 
developed  pectoral  fins,  which  enable  them  to  dart  through 
the  air  for  two  hundred  yards  or  more.  But  the  most 
remarkable  fact  about  their  flight  is  that  they  do  not  flap 
their  fins,  as  the  bird  does  its  wings,  but  warp  them  when 
they  wish  to  change  their  direction,  precisely  as  an  aviator 
warps  the  planes  of  his  flying  machine.  Aviators  might 

being  entered  into  Aries,  in  the  moneth  of  March,  I felt  so  great  cold,  as 
I was  forced  to  go  into  the  sunne  to  warme  me;  what  could  I else  do  then, 
but  laugh  at  Aristotles  Meteors  and  his  Philosophie  seeing  that  in  that 
place  and  at  that  season,  whenas  all  should  be  scorched  with  heat,  according 
to  his  rules,  I,  and  all  my  companions  were  a colde?”  Op.  cit.,  Book  II, 
Chap.  IX. 

The  denial  of  the  Aristotelian  dogma  that  “the  middle  zone  of  the  earth 
is  so  scorched  by  the  sun  as  to  be  destitute  of  moisture  and  totally  un- 
inhabitable” was  one  of  the  grounds  on  which  the  charge  of  scepticism  and 
atheism  was  preferred  against  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.  And  this,  too,  a century 
after  the  discovery  of  America! 


43 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


do  well  to  study  the  flight  of  these  singular  fishes,  as  well 
as  the  flight  of  birds,  in  their  efforts  to  obtain  success  in 
the  conquest  of  the  air. 

The  evening  before  we  landed  at  Guayaquil,  we  passed 
the  little  island  of  Santa  Clara,  also  known  as  La  Amor- 
tajada — the  Enshrouded  Woman  1 — because  of  its  fancied 
resemblance,  when  observed  from  a distance,  and  at  the 
proper  angle,  to  a corpse  wrapped  in  a winding  sheet.  We 
first  saw  it  under  the  subdued  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  and 
so  striking  was  the  resemblance  to  a shrouded  figure  that 
the  appropriateness  of  the  name  La  Amortajada  was  at 
once  manifest. 

As  first  seen,  it  was,  on  account  of  the  color  and  barren- 
ness of  the  island,  almost  snow-white,  but,  as  the  sun  sank 
into  the  ocean,  it  was  tinged  with  a soft  crimson  hue,  which 
gradually  shaded  into  a lovely  seal-brown.  Just  as  the 
figure,  as  we  thought,  was  about  to  be  veiled  in  darkness, 
a brilliant  light  flashed  from  its  bosom,  to  the  surprise  of 
every  beholder.  It  came  from  the  lighthouse  stationed  on 
the  island,  and  gave  to  La  Amortajada,  from  where  we 
were  viewing  it,  the  appearance  of  holding  in  her  hands 
some  object  of  strange  refulgence.  Memory  then  wafted 
me  from  Santa  Clara  dead  to  Santa  Clara  living,  when, 
in  her  cloistered  home  in  Assisi,  long  centuries  ago,  she 
put  to  flight  the  infidel,  as  he  was  about  to  invade  the  sa- 
cred precincts  of  her  convent  home.  The  Saracens  had 
made  themselves  masters  of  Assisi  and  were  on  the  point 
of  forcing  an  entrance  into  the  cloister  occupied  by  the 
saint  and  the  members  of  her  religious  family.  She  was 
then  confined  to  bed  by  illness,  but  no  sooner  was  she  ap- 
prised of  the  imminent  danger  to  which  they  were  all 
exposed,  than,  endowed  with  the  faith  that  moves  moun- 
tains, she  had  the  monstrance  containing  the  consecrated 
host  brought  to  her.  Then  she  hade  her  frightened  nuns 
to  carry  her  to  the  door  that  was  on  the  point  of  yielding 

i It  is  likewise  called  Isla  del  Muerto — Dead  Man’s  Island — from  its  re- 
semblance to  a gigantic  floating  corpse. 

44 


ON  THE  GREAT  SOUTH  SEA 

to  the  assault  of  the  infuriated  mob.  There,  holding  aloft 
the  sacred  receptacle  of  the  Blessed  Eucharist,  she  said, 
“Do  not,  0 Lord,  deliver  to  beasts  the  souls  confiding  in 
Thee,  and  preserve  Thy  servants  whom  Thou  hast  re- 
deemed by  Thy  precious  blood.”  This  prayer  being  fin- 
ished, a voice  was  heard,  saying — “I  will  always  protect 
you.”  “So  startled  were  the  Saracens,”  the  saint’s  biog- 
rapher continues,  “that  they  at  once  betook  themselves  to 
flight,  while  those  who  had  already  mounted  the  walls,  were 
stricken  with  blindness  and  fell  headlong  to  the  ground.  ’ ’ 1 

Without  inquiring  why  Pizarro,  who  discovered  the 
island,  called  it  Santa  Clara,  its  name  seemed  to  me,  under 
the  circumstances  just  recounted,  the  most  suitable  that 
could  have  been  selected.  The  conquistadores  were  often 
singularly  happy  in  the  names  they  gave  the  places  they 
discovered,  but  never  more  so  than  in  the  case  of  this  little 
island,  dedicated  to  the  sainted  virgin  of  Umbria. 

Before  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards,  the  island,  which 
was  inhabited,  had  been  used  by  the  Indians  of  the  neigh- 
boring island  of  Puna  as  a place  of  burial.  By  them  it  was 
regarded  as  a sacred  place,  and  at  stated  times  they  here 
offered  great  sacrifices  to  certain  stone  idols  having  heads, 
human  in  form,  but  sharply  pointed.  It  was  here,  too, 
that  the  Spaniards,  judging  by  the  many  objects  of  gold, 
silver  and  rich  textile  fabrics  which  they  found,  learned 
that  they  were  near  the  land  of  their  long  and  eager  quest 
— the  famed  land  of  golden  Peru. 

After  leaving  Santa  Clara,  our  steamer  was  headed  for 
the  island  of  Puna,  near  the  mouth  of  the  river  Guayas. 
This  island  also,  as  well  as  those  of  Gallo,  Gorgona  and 
Santa  Clara,  occupies  an  important  page  in  the  annals  of 
the  Peruvian  conquest.  It  was  here  that  Pizarro  waited 
several  months  for  reinforcements  from  Panama,  before 
starting  on  his  famous  expedition  into  the  interior  of 
Peru.  It  was  here  that  he  had  his  first  encounters  with 
the  subjects  of  the  Incas.  It  was  here,  when  his  position 

i Breviarum  Romanum,  for  Aug.  12th. 

45 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


had  become  dangerous  and  almost  untenable,  that  he  was 
joined  by  Hernando  de  Soto,  the  renowned  conquistador, 
who  afterwards  immortalized  himself  by  the  discovery  of 
the  .Mississippi,  which  was  to  be  both  his  grave  and  his 
monument.  By  the  timely  arrival  of  De  Soto  and  his  gal- 
lant band,  Pizarro  was  able  to  extricate  himself  from  his 
perilous  situation  and  to  prosecute  that  memorable  cam- 
paign, which  so  shortly  afterwards  ended  in  the  capture 
and  death  of  Atahualpa.  And  it  was  here,  some  historians 
assert,  that  the  chaplain  of  Pizarro ’s  army,  the  much 
abused  Fray  Vicente  de  Valverde,  the  first  bishop  of  Peru, 
lost  his  life  at  the  hands  of  the  warlike  Indians  to  whom 
he  had  come  to  preach  the  gospel  of  peace.1 

From  Puna,  near  which  we  anchored  for  some  hours, 
waiting  for  the  visit  of  the  health  officers,  who  came  after 
considerable  delay,  we  proceeded  up  the  river  to  Ecuador’s 
chief  seaport,  Guayaquil.  From  these  officials  we  learned 
of  an  attempt  that  had  been  made  the  day  before,  to  assas- 
sinate General  Alfaro,  the  president  of  the  republic.  They 
said  that  the  whole  country  had  been  placed  under  martial 
law,  and  that  a revolution  was  inevitable.  Many  of  the 
passengers,  mostly  Ecuadorians,  bound  for  Quito,  were  so 
alarmed  by  this  information,  that  they  did  not  consider 
it  safe  to  disembark,  and  accordingly  remained  on  the  ves- 
sel and  went  to  Lima  to  await  there  the  cessation  of 
hostilities.  Several  of  us,  however,  who  had  passed 
through  similar  uprisings  in  other  parts  of  South  America, 
did  not  regard  the  situation  as  sufficiently  serious  to  justify 
an  abandonment  of  our  plans,  and  we,  accordingly  pre- 

1 Cf.  Tesoros  Verdaderos  de  la-s  Yndias  en  la  Eistoria  de  la  Gran  Provincia 
de  San  Juan  Bautista  del  Peru,  de  la  Orden  de  Predicadores  por  el  Maestro 
F.  G.  Juan  Melendez,  Tom.  I,  Lib.  II,  Cap.  VII,  Roma,  1681,  3 vols. 

Fray  Reginaldo  de  Lizarraga,  in  his  interesting  Descripcion  y Poblacion  de 
las  Indias,  which  was  written  while  the  death  of  Valverde  was  yet  fresh  in 
the  memory  of  the  inhabitants  of  Guayaquil,  although  it  remained  unpub- 
lished until  1907,  tells  us  that  the  bishop  was  not  only  massacred  but 
eaten  by  the  Indians,  and  that  in  his  day  the  neighboring  tribes  reproached 
the  authors  of  the  prelate’s  death  with  being  bishop-eaters — perros  lampuna. 
Rivista  Historica,  p.  280,  Lima,  1907. 

46 


ON  THE  GREAT  SOUTH  SEA 

pared  to  continue  our  journey  to  Quito,  the  capital  of 
Ecuador. 

The  scenery  along  the  Guayas  is  like  that  which  char- 
acterizes the  Magdalena,  the  Orinoco  and  other  tropical 
rivers.  The  vegetation  is  rank  and  profuse.  The  oozy 
soil,  near  the  banks  of  the  river,  is  covered  with  tall 
grasses,  reeds  and  heliconias,  while  in  the  higher  grounds, 
further  afield,  one  discerns  giant  trees,  draped  with  a close 
network  of  those  creepers  and  parasites  that  are  so 
conspicuous  in  every  tropical  forest. 

But  the  Cordilleras,  as  we  saw  them  from  the  deck  of 
our  steamer,  on  the  broad  waters  of  the  Guayas!  They 
were  stupendous,  overpowering  in  their  magnitude  and 
majesty.  Never  before,  in  any  part  of  the  world,  had  I 
beheld  so  imposing  an  exhibition  of  mountain  grandeur. 
The  colossal  peaks,  rising  through  successive  masses  of 
vari-colored,  cirro-stratus  and  cirro-cumulus  clouds,  which 
changed  their  form  and  position  with  every  passing  breeze, 
seemed  literally  to  pierce  the  sky.  I had  marveled  at  simi- 
lar magnifying  effects  produced  by  shifting  clouds  and  the 
incessant  variations  in  light  and  shade  and  perspective, 
when  approaching  the  Coast  Range,  near  La  Guayra,  but, 
although  the  optical  illusions  observed  there  were  extraor- 
dinary, they  were  in  no  wise  comparable  with  those  wit- 
nessed as  we  neared  the  port  of  Guayaquil. 

In  the  foreground,  extending  seemingly  to  the  water’s 
edge,  were  the  foothills;  although  they  were  in  reality 
not  more  than  a few  thousand  feet  high  at  most,  yet 
their  summits  appeared  to  be  nearer  the  blue  empyrean 
than  does  the  icy  crown  of  Mount  Blanc  when  viewed 
from  the  vale  of  Chamouni.  Only  the  magic  pen  of 
Olmedo,  the  gifted  poet  of  Guayaquil,  has  ever  adequately 
put  in  words  the  overpowering  impression  made  on  the  be- 
holder, when  he  first  fixes  his  astonished  gaze  on 

“Los  Andes  ...  las  enormes  estupendas 
Moles,  sentadas  sobre  bases  de  oro, 


47 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Que  ven  las  tempestades  a su  planta 
Brillar,  rugir,  romperse,  disiparse.”  1 

But  our  contemplation  of  the  sublime  spectacle  before  us 
was  suddenly  interrupted  by  the  sharp,  shrill  whistle  of  the 
steamer,  and  the  discordant  clanking  of  the  anchor-chain 
passing  through  the  hawse-pipe.  We  had  happily  completed 
the  first  stadium  of  our  trans-equatorial  voyage  and  were 
now  safely  moored  in  the  placid  waters  of  the  broad  har- 
bor of  Guayaquil. 

1 “The  Andes — the  enormous,  stupendous  masses,  set  on  foundations  of 
gold, 

Which  behold  the  tempests  at  their  feet  gleam,  roar,  disperse,  vanish.” 


48 


CHAPTER  III 


FROM  SULTRY  COASTLAND  TO  CHILLY  PARAMO 

Our  first  view  of  Guayaquil  was,  in  its  way,  almost  as  im- 
pressive as  our  first  view  of  the  Andes  from  the  island  of 
Puna.  As  seen  under  the  subdued  rays  of  the  rising  sun, 
it  was  a vision  of  oriental  splendor,  not  unlike  a distant 
view  of  Cairo  or  Damascus.  The  large,  white  structures 
along  the  Guayas  and  the  imposing  churches,  also  white, 
whose  towers,  by  a peculiar  optical  illusion,  appeared  much 
loftier  than  they  really  were,  seemed  to  be  like  modern 
Athens,  wrought  of  Pentelican  marble.  The  city,  as  thus 
seen,  was  a fit  companion  picture  to  that  of  the  cloud- 
piercing Cordilleras  at  whose  foot  it  so  gracefully  reposed, 
and  we  were  quite  disposed  to  exclaim  with  the  Guayaquil 
poet,  Padre  Aguirre: 

“Guayaquil,  ciudad  hermosa, 

De  la  America  guirnalda, 

De  tierra  bella  esmeralda, 

De  la  mar  perla  preciosa.  ’ ’ 1 

In  the  harbor  were  several  steamers  and  sailing  vessels 
from  many  parts  of  the  world,  but  the  most  picturesque 
features  were  the  peculiar  craft,  everywhere  visible,  of  the 
Indians  and  mestizos.  These  were  balsas,  of  the  same 
type  as  those  that  so  surprised  Pizarro’s  pilot,  Ruiz,  and 
his  companions  on  their  first  arrival  in  these  parts,  and 
certain  kinds  of  rafts  that  serve  the  same  purpose  as  a 
Chinese  house-boat.2  All  these  were  loaded  with  fruits 

1 “Guayaquil,  city  beautiful,  America’s  garland,  beauteous  emerald  of  earth, 
precious  pearl  of  the  sea.” 

2 The  historian  Zarate  thus  described  these  balsas : “They  are  made  of 

49 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


and  other  products  of  the  rich  lands  bordering  the  Guayas 
and  its  affluents.  And  so  great  was  the  abundance  of  these 
products  offered  for  sale  that  it  was  difficult  to  imagine 
where  purchasers  could  be  found  for  half  of  them.  There 
were  bananas  of  many  varieties,  juicy  pineapples  of  rarest 
fragrance,  papayas  resembling  muskmelons  in  size  and  ap- 
pearance, and  countless  other  fruits  grateful  to  the  palate, 
that  are  found  only  in  the  tropics. 

The  vision  beautiful  vanishes  as  soon  as  one  disem- 
barks. The  marble  palaces  prove  to  be  merely  white- 
washed structures  of  plastered  bamboo,  and  the  edifices 
that  seemed  so  majestic  from  a distance  dwindle  into  rude 
shops  and  unpretentious  shacks.  Outside  of  the  Malecon 
that  parallels  the  course  of  the  river,  there  are  few  streets 
to  claim  the  visitor’s  attention,  and  still  fewer  where  he 
will  care  to  promenade  a second  time.  The  Cathedral, 
some  of  the  churches,  and  the  hospital  will  repay  a visit, 
as  will  some  of  the  larger  business  houses  along  the  Male- 
con.  In  most  respects  Guayaquil  is  like  all  other  Spanish- 
American  cities.  It  is  laid  out  in  the  same  gridiron 
fashion,  and  the  manners  and  customs  of  its  inhabitants 
are  essentially  the  same  as  those  of  the  inhabitants  of 
other  parts  of  Latin  America. 

The  peculiar  bamboo  houses  are  admirably  adapted  to 
the  soft  low  ground — only  a few  feet  above  the  water  at 
high  tide — on  which  the  city  is  built,  and  are  as  nearly 
earthquake-proof  as  are  our  steel  structures  of  the  north. 
Some  of  them  are  highly  ornate  in  appearance,  and  all  of 
them  are  specially  designed  for  the  comfort  of  those  who 
live  where  summer  never  dies. 

long  light  poles  fastened  across  two  other  poles.  Those  on  the  top  are 
always  an  odd  number,  generally  five  and  sometimes  seven  or  nine,  where 
the  rower  sits,  the  center  poles  being  longer  than  the  others.  The  shape 
of  the  balsa  is  like  that  of  a hand  stretched  out,  with  the  length  of  the 
fingers  diminishing  from  the  center.  On  the  top  some  boards  are  fixed  to 
prevent  the  men  from  getting  wet.  There  are  balsas  which  will  hold  fifty 
men  and  three  horses.  They  are  navigated  with  a sail  and  oars.”  Historia 
del  Descubrimiento  y Conquista  del  Peru,  Lib.  I,  Cap.  VI. 


50 


FROM  SULTRY  COASTLAND  TO  CHILLY  PARAMO 

Some  months  before  going  to  Guayaquil,  I had  met  in 
Venezuela  a commercial  agent  from  New  York  who  had 
spent  twenty  years  traveling  through  the  various  countries 
of  South  America,  and  he  said  to  me  on  parting:  “What- 
ever you  do,  keep  away  from  Guayaquil.  It  is  the  worst 
pest-hole  in  creation.  A foreigner  takes  his  life  in  his 
hands  by  going  there  and  a sojourn  of  only  a few  days  in 
it  is  sure  to  be  followed  by  an  attack  of  yellow  fever  or 
bubonic  plague.  If  you  should  be  fortunate  enough  to 
escape  these,  you  are  sure  to  encounter  a revolution  or  an 
earthquake.” 

This  was  a gloomy  forecast,  but  we  had  become  quite 
accustomed  to  such  prophets  of  evil  and  determined  to  con- 
tinue our  journey,  as  it  had  been  planned,  despite  all  that 
might  be  said  to  dissuade  us  from  our  purpose. 

We  had,  too,  become  quite  accustomed  to  revolutions, 
as  we  had  passed  through  three  of  them  during  the  pre- 
ceding three  months  and  had  suffered  nothing  in  person 
or  property  by  such  experiences.  In  fact,  we  came  to  re- 
gard them  like  unto  the  wars  of  the  Saxon  Heptarchy 
of  which  Milton  writes,  “They  are  not  more  worthy 
of  being  recorded  than  the  skirmishes  of  crows  and 
kites.” 

As  to  earthquakes,  those  of  a destructive  character,  even 
in  the  regions  of  greatest  seismic  disturbances  in  South 
America,  are  few  in  number,  and  are  no  more  to  be  ap- 
prehended by  the  traveler  than  are  those  of  Sicily  or 
Calabria.  And  no  one,  I think,  would  be  deterred  from 
visiting  these  interesting  countries  through  fear  of  a pos- 
sible earthquake  during  his  sojourn  there.  I had  fre- 
quently visited  various  parts  of  the  world  where  earth 
tremors  are  most  violent  and  had  never  been  even  re- 
motely exposed  to  danger  from  instability  of  the  earth’s 
surface.  Indeed,  I had  often  wished  to  experience  the 
sensation  caused  by  a severe  shock,  and  to  have  an  op- 
portunity of  observing  the  effects  due  to  vibration  of  the 
earth’s  crust.  In  such  a frame  of  mind  I should  then  have 

51 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


welcomed  a genuine  earthquake,  rather  than  have  tried  to 
escape  it. 

As  our  good  fortune  would  have  it,  we  landed  in  Guaya- 
quil in  July,  the  coolest  and  most  salubrious  month  of  the 
year.  At  no  time  did  we  suffer  from  the  heat,  even  when 
under  the  rays  of  the  midday  sun.  And  more  surprising 
still,  after  all  we  had  been  told,  we  were  never  annoyed 
by  mosquitoes  or  other  insects.  We  never  once  had  occa- 
sion to  use  a mosquito  bar  in  our  bedrooms,  and  our  hotel 
was  as  clean  and  comfortable  as  one  could  desire.  Of 
course,  we  were  in  Guayaquil  during  the  most  favorable 
part  of  the  year.  There  is  no  doubt  that  during  most  of 
the  year,  as  conditions  were  at  the  time  of  our  visit,  the 
traveler  was  more  or  less  exposed  to  yellow  fever.  For 
generations  it  had  been  practically  endemic  and  had  been 
specially  malignant  in  the  case  of  foreigners,  who  were  not 
immune.  As  to  the  native  inhabitants,  they  seemed  to 
have  little  fear  of  the  disease,  and  ordinarily  but  few  vic- 
tims were  claimed  from  their  ranks.  Most  of  them  being 
immune,  they  were  slow  to  awake  to  the  necessity  of  doing 
anything  to  stamp  out  the  plague,  even  after  they  had 
learned  of  the  signal  success  of  Colonel  Gorgas  in  the  work 
of  sanitation  in  Panama. 

But  what  the  citizens  as  a whole  had  so  long  been  in- 
different about,  the  merchants  were  at  last  forced  to  take 
into  account.  The  quarantine  regulations  along  the 
Pacific  coast — especially  at  Panama — were  becoming  so 
strict,  that  the  municipal  authorities  of  Guayaquil,  as  well 
as  the  federal  government  at  Quito,  were  compelled  to 
adopt  the  same  sanitary  measures  that  had  eliminated  all 
infectious  diseases  from  the  Canal  Zone,  and  had  made 
this  strip  of  land  as  salubrious  as  it  had  before  been 
pestiferous. 

Guayaquil  counts  about  forty  thousand  inhabitants,  and 
is  practically  the  only  port  of  Ecuador,  for  Esmeraldas, 
San  Lorenzo  and  Rio  Verde  are  almost  negligible  as  ports 
of  call  for  foreign  commerce.  It  is  through  the  port  of 

52 


FROM  SULTRY  COASTLAND  TO  CHILLY  PARAMO 


Guayaquil  that  practically  all  traffic  passes  to  and  from 
the  capital  of  the  republic  and  the  other  cities  of  Ecuador. 
It  was,  therefore,  imperative  that  the  nation’s  leading 
port  of  entry  should  have  removed  from  it  the  stigma  which 
had  so  long  attached  to  it  of  being  a place  where  pestilence 
stalked  through  the  streets  every  day  in  the  year. 

Knowing  the  cause  of  yellow  fever  and  malaria  one  per- 
ceives no  more  reason  why  it  should  exist  in  Guayaquil 
than  in  New  York  or  Boston.  Both  diseases  can  be  eradi- 
cated here  as  well  as  in  Havana  or  Colon,  and  their  recur- 
rence can  be  prevented,  if  the  means  now  available  are 
employed. 

“From  our  experience  in  Cuba,”  writes  Colonel  Gorgas, 
“several  useful  lessons  may  be  deduced.  We  find  that  the 
native  in  the  tropics,  with  the  same  sanitary  precautions 
that  are  taken  in  the  temperate  zones,  can  be  just  as  healthy 
and  have  just  as  small  a death  rate  as  the  inhabitants  of 
the  temperate  zone;  that  to  bring  this  about  no  elaborate 
machinery  of  any  kind  is  needed;  that  it  can  be  attained 
by  any  community,  no  matter  how  poor,  if  they  are  willing 
to  spend  sufficient  labor  in  cleaning  and  observing  well- 
known  rules  with  regard  to  disease;  that  the  North- Amer- 
ican Anglo-Saxon  can  lead  just  as  healthy  a life  and  just 
as  long  in  the  tropics  as  in  the  United  States.”  1 

At  the  conclusion  of  his  report  Colonel  Gorgas  declares : 
“I  look  forward  in  the  future  to  a time  when  yellow  fever 
will  have  entirely  disappeared  as  a disease  to  which  man- 
kind is  subject,  for  I believe  that  when  the  yellow  fever 
parasite  has  once  become  extinct  it  can  no  more  return 
than  the  dodo  or  other  species  of  animal  that  has  disap- 
peared from  the  earth.” 

What  is  here  said  of  yellow  fever  may  likewise  be  as- 
serted of  smallpox,  bubonic  plague  2 and  other  infectious 

1 Civil  Report  of  Brigadier-General  Leonard  Wood,  Military  Governor  of 
Cuba.  January  1st  to  May  20th,  1902,  Vol.  I,  Part  III.  Report  of  Colonel 
Gorgas. 

2 If  rats,  which  are  now  recognized  as  the  most  active  agents  in  the  spread 
of  bubonic  plague,  are  still  as  numerous  in  Guayaquil  as  they  were  two 

53 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


diseases.  They  can  be  eliminated  from  Guayaquil  as  well 
as  from  other  places  where  they  had  long  been  epidemic. 
The  difficulties  in  the  way  of  putting  Guayaquil  in  a thor- 
oughly sanitary  condition  are  far  less  than  they  were  in 
the  Canal  Zone  and  the  measures  to  be  adopted  will  be 
much  less  expensive.  The  first  step  towards  the  sanita- 
tion of  the  city  has  already  been  taken  by  acting  in  coop- 
eration with  the  quarantine  staff  of  Panama,  and,  if  the 
present  programme  be  carried  out,  it  is  a question  of  only 
a short  time  until  Ecuador’s  leading  entrepot  shall  be 
as  sanitary  as  any  port  on  our  Gulf  coast.  Then,  and 
not  until  then,  will  Guayaquil  be  able  to  take  advan- 
tage of  her  splendid  natural  position  as  a great  com- 
mercial emporium,  and  be  prepared,  especially  after 
the  opening  of  the  Panama  Canal,  for  a development 
of  her  trade  relations  with  other  countries  that  will 
far  exceed  the  fondest  dreams  of  her  most  ardent 
patriots. 

Guayaquil  had  a special  interest  for  me  because  founded 
by  two  of  the  most  famous  of  the  conquistadores,  Bella- 
cazar  and  Orellana.  The  former  had  located  it  in  1535,  a 
year  after  the  foundation  of  Quito,  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Babacoyas  River,  a tributary  of  the  Guayas.  In  1537  it 
was,  by  order  of  Francisco  Pizarro,  transferred  by  Orella- 
na to  the  foot  of  the  Cerro  of  Santa  Ana,  just  adjoining 
the  site  it  now  occupies.  After  Quito  and  Porto  Viejo, 

centuries  ago,  the  first  step  necessary  towards  the  elimination  of  this  dread 
disease  will  be  a vigorous  campaign  against  those  dangerous  rodents.  Jorge 
Juan  and  Antonio  Ullao  in  their  description  of  this  place  write  as  follows: 
“Another  terrible  inconvenience  attending  the  houses  here,  are  the  numbers 
of  pericotes,  or  rats,  every  building  being  so  infested  with  them,  that  when 
night  comes  on  they  quit  their  holes  and  make  such  a noise  in  running  along 
the  ceiling  and  in  clambering  up  and  down  the  sides  of  the  rooms  and  canopies 
of  the  beds,  as  to  disturb  persons  not  accustomed  to  them.  They  are  so  little 
afraid  of  the  human  species,  that,  if  a candle  be  set  down  without  being 
in  a lantern,  they  immediately  carry  it  oflf ; but  as  this  might  be  attended 
with  the  most  melancholy  consequences,  care  is  taken  that  their  imprudence 
is  seldom  put  to  the  trial,  tlio  they  are  remarkably  vigilant  in  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  least  neglect.”  Op.  cit.,  Book  IV,  Chap.  VI. 

54 


FROM  SULTRY  COASTLAND  TO  CHILLY  PARAMO 


founded  a few  months  after  Quito,  Guayaquil  is  the  oldest 
city  in  Ecuador.1 

From  the  beginning  it  was  a place  of  recognized  im- 
portance. For  a long  time  it  was  specially  noted  for  its 
dock  and  ship  yards.  Many  of  the  largest  ships  that 
plowed  the  Pacific  during  colonial  times  were  constructed 
at  this  port.  It  was  because  of  this  fact,  no  less  than  on 
account  of  its  size  and  wealth,  that  it  was  frequently  vis- 
ited and  plundered  by  pirates  and  buccaneers,  Dutch  and 
French  as  well  as  English.  Dampier  called  here  in  1684 
but,  although  he  declared  he  did  not  enter  the  town,  Sr. 
Roca,  a Guayaquil  writer,  avers  that  he  sacked  and  burnt 
it.  It  belonged  to  the  viceroyalty  of  Peru  until  Bolivar, 
in  1824  annexed  it  to  the  first  republic  of  Colombia,  then 
composed  of  the  present  republics  of  Venezuela,  Colombia 
and  Ecuador.2 

On  account  of  the  inflammable  character  of  the  buildings, 
the  city  has  frequently  suffered  from  disastrous  confla- 
grations. So  great,  indeed,  is  the  danger  from  fire  and  so 
inadequate  is  the  protection  against  it  that  the  rate  of  in- 
surance here  is  almost  prohibitive.  The  lack  of  appliances 
for  controlling  fire,  as  well  as  the  lack  of  proper  sanita- 
tion, have  tended,  probably  more  than  anything  else,  to 
retard  the  progress  and  prosperity  of  the  city,  but  these 
two  drawbacks  are  finally  in  a fair  way  towards  elimination, 
and  Guayaquil,  humanly  speaking,  has  a brilliant  future 
before  it. 

After  spending  two  delightful  days  in  and  around 
Guayaquil,  I prepared  to  continue  my  journey  to  Quito, 
the  capital  of  the  republic.  Until  a few  years  before  my 
arrival  in  the  country,  this  journey  was  long  and  arduous 
and  few  had  the  courage  to  undertake  it,  unless  it  was 

1 Strange  as  it  may  appear,  Guayaquil,  although  the  westernmost  city  of 
South  America,  is  on  the  same  meridian  as  the  easternmost  point  of  Florida — 
three  thousand  miles  east  of  San  Francisco. 

2 The  name  Ecuador,  the  Spanish  for  Equator,  was  given  to  the  republic 
because  of  its  location  on  the  equinoctial  line.  It  dates  only  from  the  time 
of  its  separation  from  Colombia  in  1830. 

55 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

absolutely  necessary.  The  road,  for  the  greater  part  of 
the  distance  up  the  western  slope  of  the  Andes,  was  but  a 
mere  mountain  trail — bad  enough  in  the  dry  season,  but 
during  the  rainy  season  nearly  or  quite  impassable. 
Nevertheless,  this  was  the  road  that  had  served  the  pur- 
pose of  traffic  between  the  coast  and  the  capital  during 
nearly  four  centuries.  There  was,  as  a consequence,  but 
little  communication  between  Guayaquil  and  the  interior 
of  the  country,  and  there  were  many  men  whose  homes 
were  on  the  plateau,  prominent  in  business  and  in  public 
life,  who  had  never  seen  the  ocean. 

To  traverse  the  distance  from  Guayaquil  to  Quito — 
two  hundred  and  sixty  miles — required  about  ten  days 
when  the  weather  was  favorable,  and  an  indefinite  time 
during  the  rainy  season.  The  journey  from  tidewater  to 
the  capital  of  Colombia,  before  the  recent  completion  of 
the  railroad  from  the  Magdalena  to  the  capital,  was  try- 
ing enough,  but  the  greater  part  of  it  could  be  made  on 
river  boats.  Only  two  or  three  days  on  horseback  were 
necessary  to  make  the  trip  from  Honda  to  Bogota,  and  the 
inns  on  the  way,  while  not  all  that  could  be  desired,  were 
endurable.  But  the  old  Camino  real , connecting  the  coast 
with  the  plateau  of  Ecuador,  offered  no  comforts  or  con- 
veniences for  the  traveler.  For  a greater  part  of  the  dis- 
tance, the  tambos  where  he  passed  the  night  were  wretched 
huts  which  were  filthy  beyond  description.  Even  in  the 
larger  towns  on  the  highlands,  the  inns  were  unworthy  of 
the  name.  The  traveler  was,  indeed,  fortunate  if  he  ar- 
rived at  the  end  of  his  journey  alive  and  well.  We  often 
wondered,  while  traveling  in  Colombia,  how  it  was  pos- 
sible for  such  a large  and  cultured  capital  as  Bogota  to 
exist  in  the  heart  of  the  Cordilleras,  when  it  had  been 
for  centuries  so  completely  cut  off  from  the  rest  of  the 
world.  But  the  wonder  is  intensified  in  the  case  of  Quito, 
whose  isolation  was  far  more  complete. 

The  first  one  to  ameliorate  this  extraordinary  condition 
of  affairs  was  Garcia  Moreno,  who  was  the  president  of 

56 


FROM  SULTRY  COASTLAND  TO  CHILLY  PARAMO 


Ecuador  at  the  time  of  his  tragic  death  in  1875.  This  he 
did  by  the  construction  of  a splendid  highway  from  Quito 
to  Sibambe,  which,  had  he  lived,  he  would  have  completed 
to  Guayaquil. 

This  illustrious  and  enterprising  ruler  was  also  the  first 
to  begin  the  construction  of  the  railroad  that  now  con- 
nects the  capital  with  the  Guayas  River.  Had  he  lived,  he 
would  undoubtedly  have  had  the  glory  of  seeing  it  com- 
pleted under  his  administration.  As  it  was,  little  of  con- 
sequence was  accomplished  during  the  three  decades  fol- 
lowing the  great  statesman’s  death.  Lack  of  credit  at 
home  and  abroad,  internal  dissension  and  internecine  strife 
prevented  any  successful  attempt  to  continue  the  gigantic 
undertaking  until  a generation  later.  “From  1873  to 
1894,”  writes  Major  John  A.  Harman,  chief  engineer  of 
the  Guayaquil  and  Quito  Railway  Company,  “no  less  than 
twelve  formal  contracts  were  made  between  the  govern- 
ment and  private  firms  or  parties,  both  Ecuadorian  and 
foreign,  for  the  construction  of  a railway  which  should 
connect  the  coast  with  the  interior  plateau;  and  in  addi- 
tion, the  government  employed  engineers  and  caused  many 
extensive  and  expensive  surveys  to  be  made  for  its  own 
account,  especially  between  Chimbo  and  Sibambe ; but  every 
effort  resulted  in  failure  and  financial  disaster  until  1898, 
when  the  government,  during  the  administration  of  Gen- 
eral Eloy  Alfaro,  entered  into  a contract  with  Mr.  Archer 
Harman  of  New  York  for  the  rehabilitation  of  the  old 
railway  and  ferry,  and  for  the  construction  of  the  line 
from  Chimbo  to  Quito.” 

Finally,  after  untold  difficulties,  engineering,  financial 
and  political,  had  been  surmounted,  the  road  was  com- 
pleted and  the  first  train  entered  Quito  June  28,  1908, 
two  generations  after  it  had  been  first  projected,  and 
thirty-seven  years  after  it  had  been  begun  under  Garcia 
Moreno.  The  total  cost  of  the  road  was  thirty-eight  mil- 
lion sucres — nineteen  million  dollars  in  gold — an  average 
cost  of  seventy-three  thousand  dollars  a mile. 

57 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Had  I not  traveled  across  the  Cordilleras  of  Colombia 
on  mule-back,  I should,  in  spite  of  all  its  forbidding  fea- 
tures, have  elected  the  old  Camino  real  in  preference  to 
the  railroad,  to  go  to  Quito.  But  having  familiarized  my- 
self with  the  old-time  methods  of  travel  and  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  inhabitants 
along  the  primitive  roads  of  the  interior,  there  was  noth- 
ing to  be  gained  by  the  long  and  irksome  ride  over  the  old 
trail  from  the  lowlands  to  the  Andean  plateau.  I,  accord- 
ingly, arranged  to  take  the  train  from  Duran — a small 
town  across  the  river  from  Guayaquil — where  is  the  south- 
ern terminus  of  the  railway. 

Immediately  after  I had  purchased  my  ticket  for  Quito, 
and  before  stepping  on  the  ferry-boat  that  was  to  take  me 
to  Duran,  I heard  a military  officer  tell  the  ticket  agent  in 
a low  tone  of  voice  not  to  sell  tickets  to  any  one,  unless 
he  could  show  a passport  duly  signed  by  the  chief  of  police. 
This  order  seemed  ominous,  although,  at  the  moment,  I did 
not  grasp  its  full  significance.  I became  aware  of  it,  how- 
ever, before  my  arrival  at  Quito  and  in  a way  that  was  far 
from  agreeable. 

I had  heard,  before  disembarking  at  Guayaquil,  that  the 
day  before  our  arrival  at  that  place  an  attempt  had  been 
made  to  assassinate  the  president  of  the  republic,  but  had 
paid  no  attention  to  the  report.  I noticed,  however,  that 
several  Ecuadorians  who  were  bound  for  Quito,  suddenly 
changed  their  itinerary  and  remained  on  the  steamer.  I 
subsequently  learned  that  they  considered  it  safer  to  go 
to  Lima,  until  the  storm  should  blow  over,  than  go  to 
Quito.  I had  reason  later  to  suspect  that  some  of  these 
men  were  in  sympathy  with  the  would-be  assassins,  and 
that  they  were  greatly  disappointed  at  the  miscarriage  of 
plans  in  which  they  were  so  deeply  interested.  They  were 
revolutionists  returning  from  abroad  and  had  been  count- 
ing on  a change  of  government,  which  they  expected  im- 
mediately to  follow  the  death  of  the  chief  executive. 
Alfaro,  however,  escaped  the  machinations  of  his  enemies, 

58 


FROM  SULTRY  COASTLAND  TO  CHILLY  PARAMO 


and  during  my  stay  in  Guayaquil  the  police  were  busy  in 
arresting  the  conspirators,  and  in  ferreting  out  their 
friends  and  sympathizers.  Marshal  law  was  immediately 
proclaimed  anew — it  had  been  in  force  throughout  the  re- 
public during  the  preceding  three  months  in  consequence 
of  other  attempts  against  the  administration — and  no  one 
was  permitted  to  travel  in  any  part  of  the  country,  unless 
provided  with  a special  passport  from  the  chief  of  police. 
All  travelers  were  treated  as  suspects  and  were  kept  under 
constant  surveillance.  At  first,  I was  unaware  of  what 
might  be  in  store  for  me  and  continued  my  journey  as  if 
nothing  had  happened. 

About  an  hour  after  leaving  Guayaquil,  I was  comfort- 
ably seated  in  a car  of  the  American  type,  attached  to  a 
mixed  freight  and  passenger  train  that  was  bound  for 
Riobamba — one  of  the  most  important  towns  of  the  plateau. 
Among  the  passengers  were  several  Americans,  most  of 
them  employes  on  the  railroad,  and  two  German  natural- 
ists, who  were  starting  on  a tour  of  exploration  among  the 
Cordilleras.  Besides  these  passengers,  there  was  another, 
a young  American  who  had  been  in  business  in  Guayaquil, 
and  who  had  recently  established  there  a steam  laundry  of 
the  most  approved  American  type.  The  venture  had 
proved  successful  and  he  was  now  starting  out  to  extend 
his  business  on  the  plateau  and  especially  in  Quito. 

“Are  you  going  to  establish  other  steam  laundries  in 
the  interior ?”  I asked.  His  answer  amazed  me.  “ No, ’ ’ he 
said,  “fuel  costs  too  much  on  the  plateau.  Besides,  it  is 
not  necessary.  What  I purpose  doing,  is  to  make  arrange- 
ments to  have  the  people  of  Quito  and  of  the  larger  towns 
along  the  railway,  send  their  soiled  linen  to  me  at  Guaya- 
quil. I have  calculated  that  I can  thus  do  their  laundry 
work  better,  more  expeditiously  and  more  economically — 
including  carriage  to  and  from  Guayaquil,  than  they  can 
have  it  done  at  home.  You  see,  the  methods  of  the  washer- 
women of  Ecuador  are  very  primitive  and  destructive,  and 
are  anything  but  satisfactory.  Besides,  during  the  rainy 

59 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


season,  one  may  be  obliged  to  wait  for  weeks  for  the  return 
of  one’s  linen,  for  the  laundresses  have  no  means  of  drying 
it  except  in  the  sun,  which,  during  the  rainy  season,  may 
not  appear  sufficiently  long  for  weeks  at  a time.” 

I then  recalled  my  experience  with  the  Indian  washer- 
woman on  the  Meta,  when  I had  to  take  my  linen  while  it 
was  still  wet  and  unironed,  although  it  had  been  in  her 
hands  for  more  than  a week.  And  I could  then  sympa- 
thize with  the  frequent  disappointments  and  tribulations, 
during  the  rainy  season,  of  the  spruce  Quitonian  hidalgos, 
who  so  affect  immaculate,  well-laundered  shirt  bosoms 
whenever  they  appear  in  public. 

The  two  German  Naturforscliern  were  thoughtful,  ener- 
getic young  men  who  displayed  the  greatest  enthusiasm  in 
their  work  and  seemed  determined  to  keep  up  the  splendid 
scientific  prestige  established  by  their  illustrious  country- 
man, Alexander  von  Humboldt.  Truth  to  tell,  it  is  to  the 
learned  and  energetic  sons  of  the  Vaterland  that  we  are 
indebted  for  most  of  our  authentic  information  respecting 
the  physical  condition  of  Ecuador.  Three  of  these,  Reiss, 
Stiibel  and  Wolf,  have  especially  signalized  themselves  by 
their  researches  in  the  geology  and  mineralogy  of  the 
country  and  to  them  more  than  to  all  others,  we  owe  most 
of  the  precious  data  we  now  possess  regarding  the  moun- 
tains and  volcanoes  of  Ecuador.  The  first  two  devoted 
four  years  to  their  explorations  among  the  Cordilleras  of 
Ecuador,  and  many  more  in  studying  the  mountains  and 
antiquities  of  Colombia  and  Peru,  while  the  latter  gave 
twenty  years  of  unremitting  work  to  Ecuador  alone.  His 
masterly  Geografia  y Geologia  del  Ecuador  is  a monument 
of  careful  work  and  conscientious  observation  and  is  by 
far  the  best  authority  on  the  subject  we  now  possess,  while 
the  Reisen  in  Sud-America  by  Reiss  and  Stiibel,  espe- 
cially the  part  entitled  Das  Hochgebirge  der  Republik 
Ecuador,  is  a classic  of  its  kind,  and  a mine  of  accurate 
information  regarding  the  wonderful  mountain  system  of 
which  it  treats.  One  can  safely  say  that  no  more  thorough 

60 


FROM  SULTRY  COASTLAND  TO  CHILLY  PARAMO 


or  conscientious  work  has  yet  appeared  on  the  subject,  and 
it  is  likely  to  remain  the  final  word  on  many  of  the  ques- 
tions to  which  the  world  of  science  has  long  been  waiting 
an  answer.1 

The  first  fifty  miles  of  the  railroad  passes  over  a level 
plain  of  remarkable  fertility.  Where  the  land  has  been 
cleared,  one  finds  large  cacaotales  and  sugar-cane  planta- 
tions besides  many  extensive  tracts  devoted  to  the  cultiva- 
tion of  rice.  The  soil  for  rice  is  here  as  favorable  as  any 
in  China  or  India,  and  rice  should  eventually  become  one 
of  the  greatest  staples  of  the  republic.  For  a long  time 
but  little  cane  was  cultivated,  and  that  was  chiefly  for  the 
manufacture  of  aguardiente.  Now,  however,  there  are 
several  extensive  plantations  in  the  lowlands  provided  with 
ingenios — sugar-mills — of  the  most  approved  design  and 
efficiency,  and,  in  addition  to  the  sugar  furnished  for  home 
consumption,  there  is  a constantly  increasing  output  avail- 
able for  exportation.  The  sugar  industry,  however,  is  yet 
in  its  infancy.  There  are  here  vast  tracts  of  the  best  cane 
land  in  the  world  awaiting  the  advent  of  the  capital  neces- 
sary for  its  proper  development.  When  that  is  forthcom- 
ing, the  sugar  industry  of  Ecuador  should  prove  one  of  the 
most  flourishing  in  the  republic  and  one  of  its  chief  sources 
of  revenue. 

Thus  far  the  most  valuable  and  abundant  agricultural 
product  of  the  country,  the  one  that  for  decades  past  has 
served  as  a barometer  of  the  nation’s  commercial  standing, 
has  been  cacao — the  prized  Theobroma  of  Linmeus — which 
supplies  the  chocolate  of  commerce.  Notwithstanding 
the  claims  of  Mexico  and  Venezuela  to  the  contrary,  the 
people  of  Ecuador  maintain  that  their  cacao  is  the  best  in 
the  world.  There  is  certainly  a great  demand  for  it  in 
foreign  markets,  and  the  demand  is  constantly  increasing. 

1 Mention  should  also  be  made  of  the  recent  work  of  Dr.  Hans  Meyer, 
entitled  In  den  Hoch-Anden  von  Ecuador,  mit  Bilder-Atlas,  Berlin,  1907.  It 
is  the  most  interesting  and  most  authoritative  work  on  the  glaciology  of  the 
Ecuadorian  Andes  that  has  yet  appeared. 


61 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


But,  as  in  the  case  of  sugar-cane,  only  a small  fraction  of 
the  land,  so  admirably  adapted  for  the  production  of  cacao, 
is  actually  under  cultivation.  It,  too,  is  awaiting  the  ad- 
vent of  capital,  and  when  this  arrives,  Ecuador  will  have 
in  its  cacaotales  a far  more  valuable  asset  than  it  possesses 
to-day. 

The  Ecuadorian  cacao  is  exported  in  large  quantities 
and  its  uses  are  daily  becoming  more  varied  and  extensive. 
How  differently  it  is  now  regarded  from  what  it  was  by 
Benzoni,  when  he  visited  the  New  World,  shortly  after  its 
discovery!  In  his  estimation  cacao  was  fit  only  for  pigs. 
The  historian,  Acosta,  does  not  seem  to  have  had  a much 
higher  opinion  of  the  Indian  beverage.  “The  chief  use  of 
this  Cacao,”  he  writes,  “is  in  a drinke  which  they  call 
Chocolate,  whereof  they  make  great  accompt  in  that 
country,  foolishly,  and  without  reason,  for  it  is  loathsome 
to  such  as  are  not  acquainted  with  it,  having  a skimme  or 
froth  that  is  very  unpleasant  to  taste,  if  they  be  not  very 
well  conceited  thereof.”  1 

In  marked  contrast  with  these  views  is  that  now  enter- 
tained of  cacao  by  countless  thousands  in  every  part  of 
the  civilized  world.  With  many  it  is  as  a “lucent  syrup, 
tinct  with  cinnamon,”  or,  as  Linnseus  named  it,  it  is  a ver- 
itable Theobroma — food  of  the  gods.  Everywhere  it  is 
recognized  as  one  of  our  most  wholesome  and  popular 
beverages,  and  in  some  places  it  is  rapidly  replacing  tea 
and  coffee.  According  to  the  Bureau  of  Statistics,  the 
cacao  importations  into  the  United  States  alone  now  aver- 
age more  than  a million  dollars  a month,  and  the  amount 
required  to  meet  the  ever-increasing  demand  is  daily  be- 
coming greater.  It  is  certainly  a remarkable  fact  that  the 
value  of  the  cacao  imported  into  the  United  States  has 
more  than  quadrupled  during  the  last  decade,  while  that 
of  coffee  has  actually  decreased  during  this  period,  and 
that  of  tea  has  increased  only  about  ten  per  cent. 

i The  Natural  and  Moral  History  of  the  Indies,  translated  by  Edward 
Grimston,  1604,  Book  IV,  Chap.  XXII,  printed  for  the  Hakluyt  Society,  1880. 

62 


Peon’s  Home  in  the  Tropical  Belt  of  Ecuador. 


Indian  Village  in  the  Highlands  of  Ecuador.  Grinding  Meal. 


FROM  SULTRY  COASTLAND  TO  CHILLY  PARAMO 


Most  of  tlie  habitations  of  the  natives  in  the  lowlands 
are  of  the  most  primitive  character.  Like  the  dwellings 
of  the  people  along  the  Orinoco  and  the  Meta,  they  are 
little  more  than  thatched  sheds,  designed  to  protect  their 
inmates  from  sun  and  rain.  There  is,  however,  one 
marked  difference.  The  houses  in  the  Orinoco  basin  are 
of  but  one  story,  while  those  in  the  valleys  of  the  Guayas 
and  the  Yaguachi  have  two  stories.  This  is  rendered 
necessary  by  the  inundation  during  the  rainy  season,  when 
the  land  is  flooded  to  a depth  of  several  feet,  and  the 
country  presents  the  appearance  of  a vast  inland  sea. 
The  dwellings  of  the  people  then  resemble  those  occupied 
by  the  Indians  of  Lake  Maracaibo,1  or  those  of  the  Lake 
Dwellers  of  prehistoric  Switzerland. 

The  railroad,  after  it  begins  to  wind  its  way  up  the 
lofty  steeps  of  the  Cordilleras,  is  essentially  the  same  as 
other  mountain  railways.  It  is  remarkable,  however,  for 
its  steep  grades — being  in  some  sections  almost  six  per 
cent. — and  for  its  sharp  curves.  In  some  places,  owing  to 
the  depth  of  the  narrow  gorges  through  which  the  track 
passes,  and  the  precipitous  heights  which  the  locomotive 
had  to  scale,  the  engineers  were  obliged  to  have  recourse 
to  switchbacks,  in  order  to  enable  the  engine  to  lift  the 
train  up  the  dizzy  declivity  of  the  mountain  while  pro- 
gressing in  a horizontal  direction  but  a very  short  dis- 
tance. 

The  construction  of  this  part  of  the  road  presented  many 
and  apparently  insuperable  difficulties  and  involved  the 
solution  of  several  new  problems  in  railway  engineering. 
Indeed,  there  were  many  engineers  who  declared  that  it 
was  impossible  to  build  a road  under  the  conditions  re- 
quired, and  insisted  that  the  attempt  would  result  in  failure 
and  in  national  bankruptcy. 

Great  and  daring  as  have  been  the  many  feats  of  engi- 

i It  was  because  the  Indian  village  of  Maracaibo  reminded  him  of  Venice, 
that  Vespucius,  its  discoverer,  called  it  Venezuela — little  Venice — whence  the 
designation  of  the  republic  of  that  name. 

63 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


neering  which  have  distinguished  railway  construction  in 
the  United  States,  we  have  nothing  in  our  country  that 
made  so  many  demands  on  skill  and  courage  and  pertinacity 
as  did  the  stretch  of  road  from  Chimbo  to  the  crest  of  the 
Andes.  Here,  within  the  short  distance  of  sixteen  leagues, 
the  train  is  lifted  up  a sheer  vertical  height  of  two  miles — 
from  the  sultry  lowlands  to  the  chilly  paramo — from  the 
foot  to  the  shoulder  of  giant  Chimborazo. 

Traversing  this  short  distance  is  like  going  from  the 
equatorial  to  the  Arctic  regions.  One  sees  defiling  before 
him  in  rapid  succession  the  fauna  and  flora  of  every  zone, 
and  notices  a corresponding  change  in  the  appearance  and 
dwellings  of  the  inhabitants.  In  the  lowlands  the  houses 
are  thatched  sheds,  in  the  high  plateaus  they  are  structures 
of  adobe  or  stone,  designed  to  protect  their  inmates  from 
the  frigid  blasts  of  the  snow-capped  Andes. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  Andean  plateau  may,  in  the  words 
of  Gomara,  be  described  as  “paynefull  men  who  tyll  the 
grounde  diligently  wherein  they  take  great  pleasure:  and 
haule  therefore  great  plentie  of  breade  of  Maizium.” 
They  are  also  “wytty  and  of  gentyl  behavoure.  Cunnynge 
also  in  artes,  faythful  in  promes,  and  of  manners  not 
greatly  to  be  discommended.”  I was  not,  however,  able 
to  verify  his  distinction  between  serranos — mountaineers — 
and  the  people  of  the  lowlands  of  whom  he  writes  as 
follows : 

“Among  them  there  is  this  dyfference,  that  such  as  lyve 
in  the  mountaynes  are  wliyte  and  for  the  most  parte  lyke 
unto  the  men  of  owre  regions.  But  they  that  dwell  abowt 
the  ryver  (as  though  they  tooke  theyr  coloure  thereof) 
are  hlackysshe  or  purple  of  the  coloure  of  fine  iren  or  steele. 
This  also  chaunceth  to  many  of  them,  that  theyr  fiete  and 
legges  are  lyke  the  legs  and  fiete  of  the  foule  cauled  the 
oystereche.”  1 

It  was  here  that  we  came  across  the  first  llamas  that  we 

i The  first  Three  English  Books  on  America,  translated  by  Richard  Eden, 
and  edited  by  Edward  Arber.  P.  343-344,  London,  1895. 

64 


FROM  SULTRY  COASTLAND  TO  CHILLY  PARAMO 


saw  in  South  America.  These  were  the  Peruvian  sheep 
that  so  elicited  the  admiration  of  the  Spaniards  on  their 
arrival  in  Peru.  Of  these  interesting  and  useful  animals 
the  author  just  quoted  observes : 

“There  are  sheepe  of  suche  byggenesse  that  they  com- 
pare them  to  younge  camels  or  asses  as  sum  say.  Theyr 
woolle  is  very  fine : and  nearest  unto  the  fynenesse  of  sylke. 
They  use  them  insteade  of  horses.”  1 

Useful  as  they  are,  however,  there  are  comparatively 
few  llamas  in  Ecuador.  The  majority  of  the  people  seem 
to  prefer  horses,  mules,  or  burros,  and  as  a . consequence, 
the  raising  of  llamas  has  been  greatly  neglected.  The  fav- 
orite habitat  of  these  “Indian  sheep” — ovejas  y carneros 
del  Peru — as  the  Spaniards  also  called  them,  is  Peru  and 
Bolivia,  where  they  are  found  in  immense  numbers. 

At  all  the  stations  at  which  we  stopped  en  route,  we 
found  a large  number  of  women,  who  had  eatables  for  sale. 
In  the  lowlands  we  were  offered  fruits  of  every  variety  at 
a trifling  price.  On  the  plateau,  in  lieu  of  fruits,  there 
was  a liberal  supply  of  roast  chicken,  hard-boiled  eggs,  and 
Clnocllo,  the  Quichua  word  for  ears  of  boiled  green  maize. 
As  the  Indians  prepared  it,  we  found  it  as  palatable  as  it 
is  nutritious,  and  judging  by  the  demand  for  it  among  the 
passengers,  it  is  a most  popular  article  of  food  in  Ecuador. 
One  bright,  young  Indian  woman  disposed  of  several  bas- 
ketfuls in  a few  minutes,  and  her  purchasers  were  by  no 
means  confined  to  the  natives  of  the  country.  In  marked 
contrast  with  the  low  prices  of  fruits  in  the  coast  lands, 
were  the  high  prices  for  provisions  on  the  plateau.  Eggs 
sold  for  six  cents  a piece  and  a roast  chicken  brought  its 
lucky  owner  a dollar,  the  price  that  would  be  asked  for  it 
in  a Paris  restaurant.  We  were,  however,  glad  to  get  at 
any  price,  something  to  eat;  for  we  were  hungry,  and,  our 
train  being  behind  time,  we  foresaw  that  we  should  not  be 
able  to  reach  Riobamba  until  long  after  nightfall. 

And  we  were  cold,  very  cold.  We  were  then  passing 


i Ibid. 


65 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


over  the  arenal,  that  bleak,  sandy  plain  at  the  base  of 
Chimborazo  about  which  so  much  has  been  said  and  writ- 
ten by  travelers.  Coming  in  such  a short  time  from  the 
steaming  lowlands  to  the  dry  and  frigid  paramo  we  felt 
keenly  the  great  difference  of  temperature.  Besides,  we 
had  been  in  the  heated  lands  of  the  tropics  for  months 
previously  and  had  become  sensitive  to  the  slightest 
changes  of  the  thermometer.  The  sudden  change,  then, 
from  the  home  of  the  royal  and  the  cocoa  palm  to  the  deso- 
late region  of  ichu  grass  was  like  an  immediate  trans- 
fer from  the  land  of  perennial  summer  to  the  rigorous 
latitude  of  the  Arctic  circle. 

And  yet  we  were  less  than  two  degrees  from  the  equator. 
But  we  were  two  miles  above  the  Pacific,  ice  was  forming 
on  the  surface  of  the  little  rivulet  that  was  starting  sea- 
wards, and  there  was  a sharp,  piercing  wind  that  pene- 
trated to  the  marrow  of  our  bones.  At  times  the  boreal 
blast  changed  into  a gale  and  enveloped  us  in  clouds  of 
fine  dust  and  sand.  It  was  then  like  being  caught  in  a 
Nevada  sand-cloud  in  midwinter. 

What  added  to  our  discomfort  and  rendered  us  helpless 
against  the  elements,  was  the  fact  that  our  car  had  no  glass 
windows  so  that  we  could  shield  ourselves  against  the 
wind  by  closing  them.  There  were  only  slat  shutters 
which  gave  wind  and  sand  almost  as  free  a sweep  through 
the  car  as  they  had  outside.  When  we  inquired  the  rea- 
son for  the  absence  of  window  panes,  we  were  informed 
that  it  was  on  account  of  the  falling  stones  in  the  deep 
gorges  through  which  we  had  passed  in  ascending  the 
mountain.  Glass  had  been  used,  it  seems,  for  a while,  but 
there  had  been  so  many  cases  of  breakage  from  falling 
stones  that,  in  order  to  lessen  the  danger  to  the  passengers, 
its  use  was  discontinued.1  We  had  then,  nolens  volens,  to 

i According  to  information  recently  received,  all  passenger  coaches,  at  least 
those  used  on  the  uplands,  are  now  provided  with  suitable  windows  for  the 
protection  of  passengers.  When  connection  by  rail  shall  have  been  made 
with  the  coal  fields,  that  are  about  forty  miles  from  the  main  line,  some 
provision,  it  is  hoped,  will  be  made  for  heating  the  cars  while  passing  over 

66 


FROM  SULTRY  COASTLAND  TO  CHILLY  PARAMO 


sit  and  shiver  for  several  hours,  at  the  end  of  which  we 
were  half  frozen  and  impregnated  with  sand  and  volcanic 
dust.  It  was  fortunate  for  us — I mean  my  American  and 
German  companions  and  myself — that  we  had  heavy  over- 
coats, or  we  should  have  felt  more  keenly  the  chilly  blasts 
and  the  enormous  apparent  change  in  temperature  since 
our  departure  from  the  lowlands.  But  our  experience  with 
the  frost  and  wind  of  the  elevated  region — with 

“The  wind  that  sings  to  himself  as  he  makes  stride 
Lonely  and  terrible  on  the  Andean  height,” 

was  not  something  unusual.  It  was  the  experience  of  most 
travelers  since  the  time  of  the  conquest. 

The  Italian  explorer,  Osculati,  who  visited  these  parts 
sixty  years  ago,  declares  that  the  wind  was  so  strong  and 
the  cold  so  great  that  for  a while  he  was  unable  to  pro- 
ceed on  his  journey.1 

But  to  realize  how  terrible  have  sometimes  been  the  suf- 
ferings of  those  who  have  crossed  the  Cordillera  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Chimborazo,  we  have  but  to  read  of  the 
accounts  of  the  campaigns  of  the  conquistadores  in  this 
cold  and  desolate  tableland,  especially  of  that  of  Pedro  de 
Alvarado  on  his  way  from  the  coast  to  Riobamba.  As  a 
story  of  human  endurance  amid  unheard-of  trials,  and 
of  protracted  agony  of  body  and  mind,  it  is  almost  unique 
in  the  annals  of  adventure  and  warfare.  The  nearest  ap- 
proach to  it  is,  probably,  the  recital  of  the  anguish  and 
misery  endured  by  the  followers  of  Federmann  and 
Quesada  during  their  long  marches  through  the  swampy 
forests  and  over  the  precipitous  sierras  of  New  Granada. 

Many  of  the  Spanish  historians  describe  this  famous 
journey  across  the  Andes,  but  the  most  spirited  record  is 
that  of  Herrera,  who,  in  writing  of  it,  has,  in  the  words  of 

the  colder  sections  of  the  plateau.  The  coal  used  by  the  company  at  the 
time  of  my  visit  to  Ecuador  was  brought  from  Australia  and  was  quite 
expensive. 

i Esplorazione  delle  Regioni  Equatoriali,  p.  24,  Milano,  1850. 

67 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Prescott,  “borrowed  the  pen  of  Livy  describing  the  Alpine 
march  of  Hannibal.” 

Many  of  Alvarado’s  troopers  “were  frozen  stiff  in 
their  saddles,”  while  the  track  of  the  hapless  army  through 
the  snowy  passes  was  dismally  marked  by  “the  dead  bodies 
of  men,  or  by  those,  less  fortunate,  who  were  left  to  die 
alone  in  the  wilderness.  As  for  the  horses,  their  carcasses 
were  not  suffered  long  to  cumber  the  ground,  as  they  were 
quickly  seized  and  devoured  half  raw  by  the  starving  sol- 
diers, who,  like  the  famished  condors,  now  hovering  in 
troops  above  their  heads,  greedily  banqueted  on  the  most 
offensive  offal  to  satisfy  the  gnawings  of  hunger. 

“To  add  to  their  distress,  the  air  was  filled  for  several 
days  with  thick  clouds  of  earthy  particles  and  cinders 
which  blinded  the  men  and  made  respiration  exceedingly 
difficult.  This  phenomenon,  it  seems  probable,  was  caused 
by  an  eruption  of  the  distant  Cotopaxi,  the  most  beautiful 
and  the  most  terrible  of  the  American  volcanoes.  . . . 

Alvarado’s  followers,  unacquainted  with  the  cause  of  the 
phenomenon  as  they  wandered  over  tracts  buried  in  snow 
— the  sight  of  which  was  strange  to  them — in  an  atmos- 
phere laden  with  ashes,  became  bewildered  by  this  con- 
fusion of  the  elements  which  Nature  seemed  to  have  con- 
trived purposely  for  their  destruction.  Some  of  the  men 
were  soldiers  of  Cortes,  steeled  by  the  many  and  painful 
marches  and  many  a sharp  encounter  with  the  Aztecs.  But 
this  war  of  the  elements,  they  now  confessed,  was  mightier 
than  all. 

“At  length,  Alvarado,  after  sufferings  which  even  the 
most  hardy  probably  could  have  endured  but  a few  days 
longer,  emerged  from  the  snowy  pass  and  came  on  the  ele- 
vated tableland,  which  spreads  out  more  than  nine  thou- 
sand feet  above  the  ocean,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Rio- 
bamba.  But,  one-fourth  of  his  gallant  army  had  been  left 
to  feed  the  condor  in  the  wilderness,  besides  the  greater 
part,  at  least  two  thousand,  of  his  Indian  auxiliaries.  A 
great  number  of  his  horses,  too,  had  perished ; and  the  men 

68 


FROM  SULTRY  COASTLAND  TO  CHILLY  PARAMO 


and  horses  that  escaped  were  all  of  them  more  or  less  in- 
jured by  the  cold  and  the  extremity  of  suffering.  Such 
was  the  terrible  passage  of  the  Puertos  Nevados,  which  I 
have  only  briefly  noticed  as  an  episode  to  the  Peruvian  con- 
quest, but  the  account  of  which,  in  all  its  details,  though  it 
occupied  but  a few  weeks  in  duration,  would  give  one  a bet- 
ter idea  of  the  difficulties  encountered  by  the  Spanish  cav- 
aliers than  volumes  of  ordinary  narrative.”  1 

Although  we  had  been  gradually  approaching  Chimbo- 
razo from  the  time  we  had  left  Guayaquil,  we  were  unable 
to  enjoy  a good  view  of  it  until  we  had  actually  arrived 
quite  near  to  it.  The  sun  had  set  nearly  an  hour  before, 
and  the  full  moon  was  shining  with  unwonted  brightness. 
Suddenly  the  heavy  dark  clouds,  that  had  enshrouded  the 
mountain,  cleared  away  and  there  against  the  starlit  sky 
stood  the  snow-capped  summit  of  the  famous  ‘ ‘ Giant  of  the 
Andes,”  long  reputed  to  be  the  highest  peak  on  the  surface 
of  the  globe.2  I must  confess,  however,  that  inspiring  as 
the  sight  was,  my  first  view  of  the  famous  summit  from  the 
upland,  was  disappointing.  I was  not  so  much  impressed 
by  its  height  or  its  grandeur  as  I had  been  when  I caught 
my  first  glimpse  of  it  from  the  harbor  of  Guayaquil.  It 
did  not  even  appear  so  lofty  as  a part  of  the  range  near  the 
coast.  As  a matter  of  fact,  some  of  the  highest  peaks  near 
Guayaquil  have  an  altitude  of  twelve  thousand  feet  above 
sea  level,  while  the  summit  of  Chimborazo,  from  where  I 
first  saw  it  on  the  lofty  Andean  plateau,  was  less  than  ten 
thousand  feet  above  me.  Then  it  stood  alone  with  nothing 
to  compare  it  with,  whereas  the  mountains  near  the  coast 

1 Prescott’s  Conquest  of  Peru,  Book  III,  Chap.  VII. 

One  of  the  most  pathetic  episodes  of  this  terrific  passage  across  the  sierra 
was  the  tragic  death  of  a Spanish  soldier,  who  was  accompanied  by  his  wife 
and  two  daughters.  He  might  have  escaped  alive,  but,  unwilling  to  abandon 
those  who  were  unable  to  proceed  further,  all  four  succumbed  to  the  cold 
together.  Herrera,  Historia  de  las  Indias  Occidentales,  Dee.  V,  Lib.  VI. 

2 Mrs.  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning  in  her  Aurora  Leigh  writes:  “I 

learnt  

by  how  many  feet 

Mount  Chimborazo  outsoars  Himmeleh.” 

69 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


were  surrounded  by  lower  peaks  and  banded  by  peculiar 
stratified  clouds  that  bad  the  effect  of  greatly  exaggerating 
their  apparent  altitude. 

Until  the  time  of  Humboldt,  the  summit  of  Chimborazo 
was  considered  inaccessible.  Accompanied  by  M.  Bon- 
pland,  this  eminent  explorer  in  1802  made  an  attempt  to 
scale  its  untrodden  heights,  but  was  forced  to  desist  from 
his  undertaking  when  within  little  more  than  one  thousand 
feet  of  his  goal. 

In  1831  the  distinguished  French  savant,  J.  B.  Boussin- 
gault,  accompanied  by  Colonel  Hall,  an  American,  es- 
sayed twice  to  achieve  success  where  the  great  German  ex- 
plorer had  failed,  but  he,  too,  was  compelled  to  relinquish 
his  enterprise,  but  not  until  he  had  approached  four  hun- 
dred feet  nearer  the  eagerly-sought  summit  than  had  his 
distinguished  predecessor. 

The  glory  of  being  the  first  to  report  victory,  where 
others  had  met  with  defeat,  was  reserved  for  the  English 
Alpestrian,  Edward  Whymper,  who,  in  1880,  succeeded  in 
twice  planting  his  colors  on  the  loftiest  peak  of  the  loftiest 
summit  of  the  Ecuadorian  Andes. 

The  plain  of  Riobamba  has  been  the  theater  of  many 
notable  events  recorded  in  the  annals  of  Ecuador.  On  the 
ridge  of  Tiocajas,  towards  the  south,  several  decisive  bat- 
tles have  been  fought.  It  was  here  that  the  great  Inca 
conqueror,  Tupac-Yupanqui,  routed  Hualcopo  Duchisela, 
the  fourteenth  Shiri  of  Quito,  and  subsequently  took  pos- 
session of  the  whole  country  as  far  as  Mocha.  It  was  on 
the  same  spot  that  his  illustrious  son,  the  Inca  Huayna 
Capac,  conquered  the  son  of  Hualcopo,  Cacha-Duchisela, 
a quarter  of  a century  later.  It  was  here  that  the  armies 
of  Huascar  and  Itahualpa,  the  sons  of  Huayna  Capac,  met 
in  stubborn  and  bloody  conflict  and  prepared  the  way  for 
the  conquest  of  their  country  by  the  Spaniards,  whose  cara- 
vels were  at  that  very  moment  coasting  along  the  shores  of 
the  Inca  empire.  It  was  on  Tiocajas,  too,  that  the  noted 
conquistador,  Sebastian  Bellacazar,  in  1534,  after  many 

70 


FROM  SULTRY  COASTLAND  TO  CHILLY  PARAMO 


bloody  combats,  won  a decisive  victory  over  Ruminahui, 
which  made  him  undisputed  master  of  the  Kingdom  of 
Quito. 

This  same  plain  of  Riobamba  also  witnessed  a meeting 
of  three  conquistadores  that  was  almost  as  unforeseen  and 
as  dramatic  in  its  leading  features  as  was  the  extraor- 
dinary coming  together  of  Quesada,  Federmann  and  Bel- 
lacazar  on  the  tableland  of  Cundinamarca.1 

Curiously  enough,  the  daring,  ambitious,  irrepressible 
Bellacazar  took  a prominent  part  in  both  of  these  unex- 
pected meetings.  He  had  been  appointed  by  his  chief, 
Francisco  Pizarro,  as  governor  of  San  Miguel  de  Piura, 
but,  learning  that  there  were  great  treasures  of  gold  and 
silver  in  Quito,  rivaling  in  amount  those  that  had  been 
found  in  Cuzco — he  left  his  post  without  the  knowledge  of 
his  superior  and  headed  an  expedition  to  the  land  of  the 
Shiris. 

About  the  same  time,  Pedro  de  Alvarado,  who  had  been 
an  officer  under  Cortes,  but  was  then  governor  of  Guate- 
mala, was  fitting  out,  by  order  of  the  King  of  Spain,  a fleet 
that  was  to  sail  under  his  command  to  the  Isles  of  Spices. 
But,  Alvarado,  hearing  of  the  vast  riches  of  Peru  and  learn- 
ing that  the  unexplored  country  of  Quito  was  equally  rich 
in  gold  and  silver,  determined,  in  spite  of  the  orders  of  the 
king  to  proceed  to  the  Spice  Islands,  to  start  at  once  for 
Quito.  After  crossing  the  Cordilleras,  as  above  described, 
he  learned,  to  his  surprise,  that  he  had  been  preceded  by 
Bellacazar. 

While  these  events  were  occurring,  Pizarro ’s  associate, 
Almagro,  who  was  then  near  Cuzco,  receiving  information 
of  the  arrival  of  Alvarado  in  Quito,  which  was  claimed  by 
Pizarro,  started  post-haste  for  Piura,  in  order  to  get  rein- 
forcements from  Bellacazar,  preparatory  to  marching 
against  Alvarado.  But  Bellacazar  was  gone,  and  his  ene- 
mies, wishing  to  injure  him,  told  Almagro  that  he  had  left 

1 See  Following  the  Conquistadores  up  the  Orinoco  and  down  the  Magda- 
lena. Chap.  X. 


71 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

to  join  Alvarado.  This  grieved  and  amazed  Almagro  be- 
yond expression,  but  be  saw  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost. 
He  accordingly  proceeded,  with  the  force  at  bis  disposal, 
to  Quito — the  country,  not  the  city  of  Quito — to  punish 
Bellacazar  for  abandoning  his  post  and  to  frustrate  the 
designs  of  the  intruder,  Alvarado. 

In  a short  time,  considering  the  distance  to  be  traversed 
and  the  difficulties  of  the  journey,  he  arrived  near  the  pres- 
ent city  of  Riobamba,  where,  after  numerous  preliminary 
negotiations  through  their  respective  agents,  the  three 
chieftains  agreed  to  meet  in  conference  and  adjust  their 
differences  without  resort  to  arms.  The  controversy  was 
long  and  spirited.  Claims  and  counter-claims  were  pre- 
sented, and  it  frequently  seemed  that  bloodshed  was  inev- 
itable. Finally,  diplomacy  triumphed  and  Alvarado  agreed 
to  waive  all  his  alleged  rights  and  turn  over  his  ships  and 
munitions  of  war  to  Almagro,  in  consideration  of  the  sum 
of  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  Castellanos,  and  leave 
Pizarro  undisputed  master  of  all  the  territory  in  question. 
Thus  was  amicably  adjusted  on  two  memorable  occasions, 
claims  and  disputes  that  seriously  threatened  to  jeopardize 
the  very  existence  of  the  Spaniards  in  the  enemy’s  country 
just  as  the  conquistadores  were  on  the  point  of  establish- 
ing their  monarch’s  power  on  a basis  that  was  to  endure 
until  the  War  of  Independence  in  the  first  quarter  of  the 
nineteenth  century. 


72 


CHAPTER  IY 


A LAND  OF  VOLCANOES 

The  first  place  of  importance  on  the  Ecuadorian  table- 
land which  we  visited  was  Riobamba,  not  the  old  town 
founded  by  the  Puruha  Indians  and  subsequently  occupied 
by  the  Spanish  conquerors,  but  the  next  town  founded  on  a 
new  site  after  the  destruction  of  the  old  one  by  the  terrible 
earthquake  in  1797.  It  counts  about  twelve  thousand  in- 
habitants and  possesses  several  important  ecclesiastical 
and  educational  institutions.  It  is  also  the  birthplace  of 
several  of  Ecuador’s  most  noted  sons,  for  here  were  born 
Maldonato  the  scientist,  Orosco  the  poet,  Velasco  the  his- 
torian and  several  others  scarcely  less  celebrated. 

When  W.  B.  Stevenson  visited  this  place  early  in  the  last 
century  he  was  not  favorably  impressed  with  its  possibil- 
ities as  a future  commercial  center.  He  could  not  then,  of 
course,  foresee  that  it  would  be  the  first  city  of  the  plateau 
to  be  connected  with  the  coast  by  rail  and  the  consequent 
impetus  that  this  connection  would  give  to  trade  and  man- 
ufacture in  a place  that  had  so  long  been  almost  dormant. 
Even  at  the  time  of  our  visit,  which  was  but  shortly  after 
the  railroad  had  been  extended  to  it,  Riobamba  was  begin- 
ning to  manifest  a degree  of  business  activity  that  quite 
surprised  the  older  inhabitants. 

What  first  attracted  our  attention  was  the  hotels.  From 
what  we  had  been  told,  there  was  not  a single  one  in  the 
place  where  the  traveler  could  stop  with  any  degree  of  com- 
fort. Imagine  our  agreeable  surprise,  then,  in  finding  sev- 
eral hotels  that  were  quite  satisfactory.  Ours  was  a com- 
modious two-story  building — most  of  the  buildings  have 
but  one  story — where  we  found  every  reasonable  provision 

73 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


made  for  the  entertainment  of  its  guests.  This  was  one 
of  the  first  results  of  the  advent  of  the  railway.  The  em- 
ployes of  the  road,  and  commercial  travelers  had  created 
a demand  for  better  lodgings  than  had  previously  existed, 
and  the  demand  had  been  met  without  delay. 

Another  evidence  of  progress  was  a large  electric  power- 
plant,  recently  established,  which  is  operated  by  water, 
and  designed  to  supply  light  to  the  city  and  furnish  power 
for  flour  mills  and  other  manufactories.  As  a result  of 
the  erection  of  these  flour  mills  and  the  increased  acreage 
devoted  to  the  cultivation  of  wheat  and  other  cereals,  it  is 
confidently  hoped  that  the  agricultural  lands  of  the  plateau 
will  soon  be  able  to  supply  the  coast  country  with  the  flour 
needed,  which  has  hitherto  been  imported  from  Chile  and 
the  United  States. 

The  view  from  Riobamba  is  most  fascinating,  and  fully 
justifies  Boussingault’s  statement  that  “it  exhibits  the  most 
singular  diorama  in  the  world.”  From  few  other  points 
in  the  republic  may  one  gaze  upon  volcanoes  and  mountain 
peaks  that  are  so  majestic  and  imposing.  In  the  west 
Chimborazo  and  Carihuairazo  raise  their  lofty  summits 
above  the  clouds,  while,  towards  the  east,  are  the  colossal 
masses  of  El  Altar,  Cubillin,  Tunguragua  and  others 
scarcely  less  prominent. 

El  Altar  looks  somewhat  like  an  altar,  whence  its  name. 
In  Quichua  it  is  called  Capac-Urcu,1  the  father  of  moun- 
tains, because,  according  to  Indian  tradition,  it  was  for- 
merly higher  than  Chimborazo.  Its  summit  was  then,  it 
is  said,  in  the  form  of  a cone,  but  owing  to  some  convulsion 
of  Nature  it  was,  a few  years  before  the  arrival  of  the 
Spaniards,  reduced  to  its  present  condition.  So  impressed 
was  the  German  savant,  Dr.  Stiibel,  by  its  beauty  and 
grandeur  that  he  did  not  hesitate  to  pronounce  it  “the  mas- 
terpiece of  volcanic  creations.” 

Tunguragua,  which  rivals  Chimborazo  in  size  and  sub- 

i Also  called  the  Cerro  de  Collanes,  from  the  Aymara  word  signifying  sub- 
lime, grandiose. 


74 


A LAND  OF  VOLCANOES 


limity,  is  a volcano  which,  although  quite  irregular  in  its 
activity,  has  been  noted  for  its  terrific  eruptions  from  time 
immemorial.  Its  summit  has  the  form  of  a perfect  cone 
and  is  covered  with  a mantle  of  eternal  snow.  Passing 
from  its  base  to  its  crater  is  like  traversing  from  the  equa- 
tor to  the  pole.  Its  lower  slopes  on  the  eastern  declivity 
are  covered  with  the  luxuriant  vegetation  of  the  tropics, 
while  its  crest  is  the  home  of  glaciers  of  vast  extent  and 
thickness.  During  a notable  eruption  in  1777  many  towns 
and  villages  were  destroyed,  while  during  an  eruption  in 
1886  the  ashes  that  were  belched  forth  were  carried  as  far 
as  Guayaquil.  A deluge  of  water  and  avalanches  of  mud, 
resulting  from  the  melted  ice  and  snow,  inundated  the  val- 
leys at  its  foot,  and  the  Pastaza,  an  affluent  of  the  Amazon, 
was  cumbered  with  the  debris  carried  down  the  mountain’s 
slope  by  the  raging  flood. 

Thirty  miles  southeast  of  El  Altar  is  the  active  volcano 
of  Sangai,  pronounced  by  Villavicencio  to  be  “the  most 
frightful  volcano  in  the  world” — “el  mas  horroroso  del 
globo.”  1 Its  eruptions,  according  to  the  natives,  alternate 
with  those  of  Cotopaxi.  When  one  is  in  action  the  other 
is  in  repose,  each  in  turn  becoming  a safety  valve  to  the 
common  focus  of  disturbance.  At  one  time  its  explosions 
resemble  the  discharge  of  musketry,  at  another  it  is  like  the 
report  of  a broadside  from  a man-of-war,  while  occasion- 
ally, large  masses  of  incandescent  rock  are  exploded  in 
the  air,  producing  a terrific  sound  like  that  of  the  largest 
bombs.  So  loud,  indeed,  are  the  detonations  that  they  are 
audible  as  far  as  the  coast,  and  the  ashes  are  carried  to  the 
waters  of  the  Pacific. 

So  great  is  the  mass  of  ash  and  cinders  ejected  from  this 
volcano  that  it  would,  Reclus  assures  us,  equal  that  of  sev- 
eral mountains.  “The  surrounding  country  is  covered  to 
a great  depth  with  a grayish  dust,  and  moving  dunes  of 
volcanic  sand,  more  than  a hundred  meters  in  thickness, 
are  carried  along  by  the  action  of  the  wind.  At  times  the 

i Oeografia  de  la  Rep-ullica  del  Ecuador,  p.  51,  New  York,  1858. 

75 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


tempest,  sweeping  over  the  rock,  reveals  the  escarpements 
of  mica- schist  which  form  the  primitive  skeleton  of  the 
Cordillera.’  ’ 1 

For  years  at  a time,  Dr.  Reiss  informs  us,  it  pours  forth 
immense  streams  of  lava  towards  the  east,  and  their  onward 
course  is  not  arrested  until  they  reach  the  virgin  forests 
that  incline  towards  the  basin  of  the  Amazon.  And  during 
several  years  in  succession  the  Mayas  Indians  are  witnesses 
of  the  illumination  due  to  the  reflection  of  light  from  the 
rivers  of  molten  lava. 

While  in  eruption,  Villavicencio  tells  us,  Sangai  presents 
the  aspect  of  an  enormous  pharos,  more  sublime  than 
that  which  surmounts  the  environs  of  Naples,  but  it  is  a 
beacon  that  serves  no  purpose,  for  while  the  one  illumines 
the  civilization  and  commerce  of  old  and  lovely  Italy,  the 
other  wastes  its  beams  on  solitude  and  barbarism.2 

It  seems  probable  that  the  disastrous  earthquake  which 
destroyed  the  old  city  of  Riobamba  in  1797,  had  its  origin 
in  Sangai.  So  complete  and  sudden  was  this  visitation 
that  few  of  the  twenty  thousand  inhabitants  of  the  city 
were  able  to  escape,  and  Stevenson  was  fully  justified  in 
declaring  that  “perhaps  no  remains  of  these  awful  convul- 
sions of  Nature  are  more  awful  than  those  of  Riobamba.” 

“The  face  of  the  country  was  entirely  changed,  so  much 
so  that  after  the  shock,  the  surviving  inhabitants,  and  those 
of  the  neighboring  provinces,  could  not  tell  where  their 
houses  formerly  stood,  or  where  their  friends  had  formerly 
lived;  mountains  rose  where  cultivated  valleys  had  ex- 
isted; the  rivers  disappeared  or  changed  their  course,  and 
plains  usurped  the  situation  of  mountains  and  ravines.”3 

Even  more  remarkable  in  many  respects  than  the  dis- 
aster just  noted,  was  the  extraordinary  disappearance,  in 
1640,  of  the  village  of  Cacha  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of 

1 Nouvelle  Geoyraphie  Universelle,  Vol.  XVIII,  p.  422,  Paris,  1893. 

2 Op.  cit.,  p.  52. 

2 A Historical  and  Descriptive  'Narrative  of  Twenty  Years'  Residence  in 
South  America,  Vol.  II,  p.  268,  by  W.  B.  Stevenson,  London,  1825. 


76 


A LAND  OF  VOLCANOES 


Riobamba,  in  which,  it  is  said,  five  thousand  people  lost 
their  lives.  According  to  information  available,  it  was  not 
due  either  to  an  earthquake  or  to  volcanic  action,  but  to  a 
sudden  landslide  or  depression  of  the  earth’s  surface. 
“The  catastrophe,”  writes  Dr.  T.  Wolf,  “it  appears,  took 
place  in  silence,  though  rapidly;  for  even  in  the  immediate 
neighborhood,  neither  earthquake  was  felt  nor  noise  heard. 
A proof  of  this  is,  that  the  priest,  having  a short  time  be- 
fore gone  out  with  the  sacristan  to  administer  the  sacra- 
ment to  an  Indian  who  lived  some  little  distance  from  the 
village,  was,  on  his  return,  much  astonished  not  to  find  even 
the  site  where  Cacha  had  previously  stood.”  1 

Of  all  the  travelers  who  have  recorded  their  impressions 
of  the  marvelous  views  obtainable  from  Riobamba,  no  one 
has  given  a more  truthful  pen-picture  of  what  he  saw  than 
the  distinguished  French  savant,  J.  B.  Boussingault,  who 
expresses  himself  as  follows  : 

“This  vast  amphitheater  of  snow,  limiting  the  horizon  of 
Riobamba  on  all  sides,  is  a continual  subject  of  varied  ob- 
servations. It  is  interesting  to  consider  the  aspect  of  these 
glaciers  at  different  hours  of  the  day  and  to  see  their  ap- 
parent height  change  at  every  moment,  owing  to  atmos- 
pheric refraction.  With  what  interest  does  not  one  behold 
the  production,  in  so  limited  a space,  of  all  the  great  phe- 
nomena of  meteorology!  Here  it  is  one  of  those  immense, 
long  clouds,  that  Saussure  has  so  aptly  defined  as  parasitic 
clouds,  which  fastens  itself  about  the  middle  of  a cone  of 
trachyte  and  so  adheres  to  it  that  the  wind  has  no  power 
over  it.  Presently,  lightning  flashes  and  thunder  rolls  in 
the  midst  of  this  vapory  mass,  hail  and  rain  flood  the  moun- 
tain’s base,  while  its  snowy  summit,  untouched  by  the 
storm,  is  rendered  dazzling  in  the  sunshine.  Farther  on 
it  is  a lofty  peak  of  resplendent  ice.  Clearly  outlined 
against  the  azure  sky  one  may  distinguish  its  entire  con- 
tour. The  atmosphere  is  remarkably  pure,  yet  this  icy 

i Quoted  by  A.  Simson,  in  his  Travels  in  the  Wild's  of  Ecuador,  p.  21,  Lon- 
don, 1886. 


77 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


peak  is  covered  with  a cloud,  apparently  coming  out,  smoke- 
like, from  its  bosom.  This  cloud,  turning  into  a light  va- 
por, soon  passes  away.  Again  it  reappears  and  again  it 
passes  away.  This  intermittent  formation  of  clouds  is  a 
very  frequent  phenomenon  on  snow-capped  mountain 
peaks.  It  is  observed  especially  during  calm  weather,  al- 
ways a few  hours  after  the  sun’s  culmination.  Under  such 
conditions,  glaciers  may  be  compared  to  condensers 
launched  toward  the  elevated  regions  of  the  atmosphere 
to  dry  up  the  air  by  cooling  it  off  and  thus  bring  down  on 
the  earth’s  surface  the  rain  which  was  contained  therein 
in  the  state  of  vapor.”  1 

As  we  were  passing  through  Riobamba  early  one  morn- 
ing, we  were  surprised  at  seeing  the  large  number  of  In- 
dians engaged  in  besoming  the  streets.  They  seemed  to  be 
as  particular  about  their  work  as  are  the  good  housewives 
of  certain  Dutch  towns,  who  are  not  content  with  sweeping 
the  streets  but  must  needs  scrub  them  as  well. 

The  train  we  were  to  take  for  Ambato  was  scheduled  to 
leave  at  six  o’clock  in  the  morning.  But  there  was  one  de- 
lay after  another  so  that  we  were  detained  at  the  depot 
several  hours.  We  then  began  to  realize  what  it  was  to 
be  in  a country  that  is  under  martial  law.  The  attempt  on 
the  life  of  the  president  a few  days  previously  had  thrown 
the  whole  country  into  a ferment  of  excitement,  and  the 
government  was  taking  every  possible  precaution  to  pre- 
vent an  anticipated  revolution.  All  suspects  and  strangers 
were  kept  under  surveillance,  and  we  did  not  escape  the 
watchful  eyes  of  police  and  secret  service  men.  But  so  far 
we  had  not  been  molested.  Others,  however,  were  less 
fortunate.  We  saw  several  arrested,  who  were  suspected 
of  being  implicated  in  the  conspiracy,  and,  judging  by  the 
manner  in  which  we  were  scrutinized  by  several  govern- 
ment officials,  we  felt  that  we  might  at  any  moment  be 
called  upon  to  give  an  account  of  ourselves.  But  our  time 
had  not  yet  come.  After  our  train  had  been  held  for  the 

i Viajes  Cientificos  d los  Andes  Ecuatoriales,  p.  207,  Paris,  1849. 

78 


A LAND  OF  VOLCANOES 


arrival  of  a company  of  soldiers,  that  was  to  be  trans- 
ferred to  another  part  of  the  country,  we  finally  got  started 
and  found  ourselves  circling  around  the  arid  Meseta  of 
Riobamba  and  headed  towards  Chimborazo.  To  us,  com- 
ing from  the  lowlands,  it  was  bitter  cold,  but  the  natives 
seemed  to  be  quite  comfortable,  although  but  slightly  clad. 
What  added  more  than  anything  else  to  our  discomfort 
was  the  chilly  sand-blasts  that  swept  through  our  window- 
less car  and  at  times  almost  blinded  us.  It  was  a Sahara 
sand-storm  and  a Siberian  blast  unpleasantly  wedded. 

Happily,  there  were  so  many  things  to  claim  our  atten- 
tion that  we  managed  to  endure  the  trials  imposed  by  cold 
and  wind.  Chief  among  these  was  Chimborazo,  which  we 
were  gradually  approaching  and  along  whose  base  we  were 
to  travel  almost  until  we  reached  Ambato.  The  clouds, 
that  so  often  conceal  it  from  view,  had  lifted  and  we  could 
behold  it  in  all  its  impressive  grandeur  and  sublimity. 
Owing  to  the  clear  atmosphere,  the  snow-capped  apex  of 
this  colossus  of  Ecuador  seemed  much  nearer  than  it  was 
in  reality.  I then  recalled  the  ambition  that  I had  long 
entertained,  after  reading  of  the  futile  efforts  of  Hum- 
boldt and  others,  to  scale  its  summit  and  plant  the  Amer- 
ican flag  on  its  loftiest  peak.  Indeed,  after  climbing 
Popocatepetl  I had  actually  made  all  arrangements  to 
essay  the  ascent  of  Chimborazo  and  Cotopaxi,  but,  at  the 
last  moment,  something  intervened  to  prevent  me  from 
carrying  my  long-cherished  plans  into  effect.  Now,  that 
I was  passing  over  the  foothills  of  these  two  grand 
peaks,  I felt  anew  the  regret  I had  experienced  long  years 
before  in  not  being  able  to  gratify  my  desire  of  ex- 
ploring these — to  me — alluring  heights.  But  while  the  ar- 
dor of  youth  still  remained,  I realized  that  I was  a quar- 
ter of  a century  older,  and  wisdom  counseled  prudence  and 
renunciation.  Besides,  cui  bono ? I said  to  myself  while 
gazing  wistfully  at  the  glistening  summit  of  the  giant  of  the 
Andes  and  still  dreaming  of  the  possibility  of  attaining  its 
dizzy  crest.  Others  have  been  there  and  explored  its  broad 

79 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

glacier  fields  and  all  that  is  visible  of  its  once  enormous 
crater  and  lava  streams  which,  during  prehistoric  times, 
coursed  down  the  precipitous  sides.  I could,  even  if  suc- 
cessful, add  but  little  to  the  sum  of  human  knowledge  by 
repeating  the  feat  of  Whymper  and  his  brave  Swiss  Alpes- 
trians,  and,  such  being  the  case,  there  was  little  left  but 
idle  curiosity  to  compensate  for  the  fatigue  and  danger 
that  would  necessarily  be  incident  to  such  an  undertaking. 
I accordingly  satisfied  myself  by  reading  Bolivar’s  Delirio, 
penned  after  contemplating  what  he  happily  calls  “el  atala- 
ya  del  universo” — “the  watch  tower  of  the  universe.” 

I have,  however,  reason  to  remember  Chimborazo  with- 
out having  essayed  to  reach  its  summit.  But  the  memory 
to  which  I refer  is  not  a pleasant  one.  We  had  reached  the 
eastern  base  of  the  mountain,  at  a point  nearly  twelve  thou- 
sand feet  above  sea  level,  shortly  after  nightfall,  and,  while 
rounding  a sharp  curve  with  a heavy  gradient,  the  locomo- 
tive and  a part  of  the  train  got  derailed.  Just  then  it  be- 
gan to  rain  and  hail.  This  was  followed  by  sleet  and  a 
piercing  wind  from  which  our  open  car  afforded  no  pro- 
tection. There  was  no  means  of  heating  the  car,  and  the 
cold  gradually  became  more  and  more  intense  and  the  tem- 
pest more  violent.  We  thought  at  first  that  the  engine  and 
cars  could  soon  be  gotten  back  to  the  track.  They  were, 
but  no  sooner  was  an  attempt  made  to  move  forward,  than 
the  locomotive  was  again  off  the  rails.  We  were  in  the 
worst  possible  place  for  such  an  accident  to  occur.  Time 
and  again  the  engine  was  restored  to  the  track,  but  each 
time  the  throttle  was  opened  it  glided  off  the  rails.  Hour 
after  hour  passed  away,  but  all  attempts  to  get  started 
again  were  futile.  The  conductor  and  engineer  resorted 
to  every  means  at  their  command  to  overcome  the  difficulty 
that  confronted  them,  but  in  vain.  The  trainmen  labored 
like  Trojans  but  to  no  purpose.  Meantime  the  passengers, 
at  least  those  of  us  who  had  come  from  the  coast,  were 
suffering  from  the  damp,  cold  and  penetrating  wind  from 
the  snow  fields  just  above  us.  I was  well  provided  with 

80 


Astronomical  Observatory,  Quito. 


Summit  of  Chimborazo  as  Seen  from  the  Plateau. 


A LAND  OF  VOLCANOES 


heavy  clothing  and  wraps,  but  these  were  insufficient 
to  shield  me  from  the  arctic  blast  that  raged  without  inter- 
mission during  the  entire  night.  After  putting  on  a light 
and  a heavy  overcoat  I wrapped  around  myself  a heavy 
Scotch  blanket  that  had  kept  me  warm  in  the  coldest  of 
northern  latitudes.  But  still  I shivered,  and  my  teeth  chat- 
tered as  never  before.  Never  had  I suffered  so  much  from 
the  cold  in  the  severest  rigors  of  a subarctic  climate.  I 
thought  surely  that  I should  have  pneumonia  before  morn- 
ing. 

How  the  other  passengers — most  of  them  with  very  light 
clothing — survived  that  night  of  horror  will  always  be  a 
mystery  to  me.  Most  of  them,  I know,  tried  to  keep  warm 
by  copious  draughts  of  aguardiente — a crude  kind  of 
brandy  made  from  sugar-cane — and  the  majority  were  soon 
stupid  from  the  effects  of  the  poisonous  extract. 

Finally,  the  morning  dawned  and  the  employes  of  the 
road  were  still  devising  ways  and  means  to  get  started,  but 
all  their  efforts  were  still  fruitless.  “What  is  the  mat- 
ter?” I asked  a large,  robust  Jamaican  negro,  a brakeman. 
“What  am  de  matter?”  he  said,  in  an  agonizing  voice. 
“My  good  Lawd,  de  train  hab  jumped  de  track,  dat  am 
what’s  de  matter.”  And  the  poor  fellow,  suffering  from 
hunger  and  fatigue,  and  half  frozen,  and  no  longer  able  to 
restrain  his  pent-up  feelings,  burst  into  loud  sobs  and  cried 
like  a child. 

Finally,  however,  after  laboring  for  twelve  mortal  hours, 
the  trainmen  succeeded — how,  I do  not  know — in  getting 
the  train  back  on  the  rails  and  in  releasing  us  from  what 
was  to  me  one  of  the  most  trying  experiences  of  my  life. 
I was  then  quite  satisfied  to  leave  Chimborazo  alone  on  his 
storm-swept  paramo,  and  was  in  no  further  mood  to  read 
delirios  or  odes  about  the  “Giant  of  the  Andes”  or  the 
“Watchtower  of  the  Universe.”  I should  just  then  have 
been  glad  to  have  had  a little  of  that  unbearable  heat  which 
Aristotle  and  Pliny  affirmed  always  to  prevail  near  the 
equator. 


81 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

Our  first  stopping-place  after  leaving  Eiobamba — I do 
not  refer  to  our  unavoidable  detention  at  the  foot  of  Chim- 
borazo— was  Ambato.  This  is  a town  of  about  eight  thou- 
sand inhabitants,  and  is  celebrated  for  its  fairs,  which  at- 
tract more  people  than  any  others  in  the  republic.  It  has 
several  times  been  destroyed  by  earthquakes,  but  each  time 
it  has  been  rebuilt  and  is  now  one  of  the  most  prosperous 
places  on  the  plateau.  What  specially  invited  our  atten- 
tion was  the  large  number  of  orchards  devoted  to  the  culti- 
vation of  fruits  of  the  temperate  zone — among  them  ap- 
ples, peaches,  pears  and  apricots.  Indeed,  so  far  as  the 
production  of  fruits  goes,  the  Ambato  valley  is  perhaps 
the  most  fertile  tract  on  the  tableland  between  Cuenca 
and  Ibarra. 

We  probably  made  a special  note  of  this  particular  fea- 
ture of  Ambato  because  it  is  in  such  marked  contrast  with 
the  general  appearance  of  the  plateau  between  Riobamba 
and  Latacunga.  A great  part  of  the  land  between  these 
two  places,  when  not  an  arid,  barren  plain,  is  a dismal 
heath  or  a cheerless  moorland.  Not  more  than  half  of  it 
is  available  for  cultivation,  and  even  this  part,  aside  from 
some  favored  valleys,  is  far  from  being  fertile.  It  produces 
barely  enough  to  support  the  present  sparse  population. 
If  there  were  a marked  increase  in  the  number  of  inhab- 
itants, it  would  be  necessary  to  seek  for  means  of  subsist- 
ence beyond  the  plateau,  or  adopt  quite  different  methods 
of  agriculture  from  those  which  have  obtained  since  the 
time  of  the  conquest.  Except  in  a few  of  the  better  con- 
ducted haciendas,  one  still  sees  everywhere  the  same  prim- 
itive methods  of  agriculture  that  were  introduced  by  the 
Spaniards  three  and  a half  centuries  ago.  With  the  advent 
of  railroads,  however,  and  cheaper  transportation,  there  is 
no  doubt  that  old  methods  of  tillage  will  soon  give 
way  to  modern  principles  of  husbandry,  and  that  the  sim- 
ple implements  that  have  so  long  been  almost  exclusively 
employed  will  soon  be  replaced  by  the  better  types  of  farm- 
ing machinery  of  foreign  manufacture.  When  this  time 

82 


A LAND  OF  VOLCANOES 


shall  arrive, — and  it  should  be  in  the  very  near  future, — 
the  manufacturers  of  the  United  States  should  be  the  first 
to  avail  themselves  of  the  opportunity  of  creating  a new 
market  for  their  products  and  for  the  latest  mechanical  cre- 
ations of  Yankee  genius. 

The  chief  agricultural  products  of  the  inter-Andean 
plateau  are  wheat,  barley,  maize  and  potatoes.  The 
latter  two  are  the  chief  sustenance  of  the  poorer  classes. 
Roast  com — mote — and  potato  soup— locro — are  to  the 
serrano — mountaineer — what  boiled  and  roast  plantains 
are  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  lowlands — their  staff  of 
life. 

Extensive  tracts  are  also  devoted  to  the  cultivation  of 
alfalfa.  Before  the  completion  of  the  railway  between  the 
coast  and  the  capital,  this  was,  in  some  respects,  even  more 
important  than  corn  or  wheat,  for  without  a liberal  supply 
of  yerba — provender — it  was  impossible  to  keep  up  the 
large  and  numerous  mule  trains  that  were  necessary 
for  transporting  merchandise  between  Guayaquil  and  the 
towns  of  the  interior.  Even  to  the  casual  traveler  among 
the  Cordilleras,  as  every  one  who  has  had  any  experience 
in  Andean  lands  knows,  yerba  is  the  most  essential  item  of 
a successful  trip,  and  the  one  that  is  first  called  for  at  the 
end  of  the  day’s  journey.  The  rider  may  dispense  with 
bread  and  locro,  for  this  can  be  replaced  by  eggs  and 
toasted  corn,  or  he  can,  if  need  be,  make  shift  with  the  lat- 
ter alone,  but  his  mount  must  have  his  daily  allowance  of 
yerba  or  progress  is  impossible. 

The  plateau  between  Riobamba  and  Quito  is  monotonous 
and  desolate  in  the  extreme.  For  a part  of  the  distance 
it  is  as  arid  as  Arizona  and  as  treeless  as  the  tableland  of 
Mexico.  But  few  trees  are  visible.  Along  the  banks  of 
rivers  and  streams  there  is  an  occasional  willow  or  wild 
cherry,  but  nothing  that  approaches  a forest.  Excepting 
the  American  aloe,  one  sees  little  more  than  certain  species 
of  cactus,  euphorbia  and  eupatorium  together  with  a spe- 
cies of  tall  grass  called  sigsig. 

83 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


The  aloe — Agave  Americana — is  called  Cabulla  by  the 
Ecuadorians,  and  is  used  by  them,  as  by  the  Mexicans,  for 
a great  variety  of  purposes.  It  serves  as  an  enclosure 
around  houses  and  gardens  and  as  a hedge  along  the  road. 
The  broad  leaves  supply  the  poorer  people  with  thatch  for 
their  huts,  while  the  tall  flower  stalks  are  employed  for 
building  purposes. 

There  are  two  reasons  for  this  notable  absence  of  vege- 
tation on  the  part  of  the  plateau  in  question,  for  it  is  gen- 
erally admitted  that  it  was  not  in  its  present  condition  at 
the  time  of  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards.  One  reason  is 
that  the  forest  growth  has  been  destroyed  by  the  owners 
of  the  land  and  that  they  never  made  any  provision  to  re- 
place it.  Another  reason — and  probably  the  chief  one — is 
the  character  of  the  soil.  This  is  largely  of  volcanic  or- 
igin— a porous  pumice  which  favors  rapid  evaporation  as 
well  as  speedy  absorption — and  a compact  tufa  which  per- 
mits rain  to  flow  away  as  soon  as  it  falls.  In  both  cases 
the  land  is  rendered  arid  and  unproductive.  Only  im- 
proved methods  of  cultivating  the  soil  and  the  creation 
anew  of  extensive  forest  tracts  can,  as  the  Ecuadorian 
botanist,  Sr.  L.  Sodiro,  pertinently  observes,  give  hack  fer- 
tility to  large  stretches  of  territory  that  are  now  little  bet- 
ter than  desert  wastes.1 

On  our  arrival  at  Latacunga,  a town  of  about  twelve  thou- 
sand inhabitants,  we  were  met  by  a number  of  soldiers  who 
required  us  to  give  an  account  of  ourselves.  They  desired 
to  know  whence  we  came,  whither  we  were  going,  and  what 
was  our  occupation  and  nationality.  We  supplied  them 
with  this  information,  but  they  were  not  satisfied,  and  told 
us  they  would  have  to  take  us  to  the  police  station.  We  ac- 
cordingly started  towards  the  town,  which  is  some  distance 
from  the  railway,  and  the  guard  accompanied  us.  There 
were,  however,  quite  a number  in  our  party — most  of  them 
Ecuadorians — but  in  separate  conveyances.  When  we 
finally  reached  the  town,  going  directly,  as  we  supposed,  to 

i Apuntes  sobre  la  V egetacion  Ecuatoriana,  p.  26,  Quito,  1874. 

84 


A LAND  OF  VOLCANOES 


the  prefecture  of  police,  the  Ecuadorians  suddenly  dashed 
off  into  various  side-streets,  and  the  guards,  unwilling  to 
lose  sight  of  them,  started  after  them  post-haste,  appar- 
ently forgetting  us  altogether.  Finding  ourselves  thus  un- 
expectedly at  liberty,  we  quietly  proceeded  to  our  hotel  to 
await  developments,  but,  strange  to*say,  we  were  not  again 
molested  during  the  day  that  we  remained  in  the  place. 
The  police  and  military  had,  evidently,  more  important 
matters  to  occupy  their  attention  than  two  wandering 
Gringos. 

Latacunga  is  a dreary,  melancholy  place — just  such  a 
place  as  one  would  avoid — if  he  is  inclined  to  homesickness. 
Besides  this,  we  found  it  exceedingly  cold.  It  is  nearly 
ten  thousand  feet  above  sea  level,  and  at  the  time  of  our 
visit,  there  was  a stiff  breeze  blowing  from  the  direction 
of  snow-capped  Cotopaxi,  and  this  also  tended  to  reduce 
the  temperature.  Most  of  the  houses  are  built  of  pumice 
stone,  and  this  likewise  contributes  to  the  cheerless  aspect 
of  the  place.  Like  many  other  towns  in  Ecuador,  it  has 
suffered  frequently  from  earthquakes  and  from  its  prox- 
imity to  Cotopaxi,  which  is  only  six  leagues  to  the  east. 
It  was  destroyed  four  times  between  1698  and  1797.  For 
this  reason  the  houses  are  of  but  one  story  with  very  thick 
walls,  so  as  to  offer  the  greatest  possible  resistance  to  seis- 
mic disturbances. 

The  first  recorded  eruption  of  Cotopaxi  took  place  in 
1534,  at  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards,  and 
proved,  as  a certain  writer  has  observed,  “very  favorable 
to  the  enterprise”  of  the  conquistadores.  “For  the  In- 
dians, possessed  with  truth  of  a prediction  of  their  priests 
that  on  the  bursting  of  the  volcano  they  would  be  deprived 
of  their  country  and  reduced  under  the  government  of  an 
unknown  prince,  were  so  struck  with  the  concurrence  of 
the  bursting  of  the  volcano,  and  the  invasion  of  a foreign 
army,  that  the  spirit,  which  universally  began  to  show  itself 
in  the  preparations  everywhere  made  for  a vigorous  re- 
sistance, entirely  left  them,  and  the  whole  province  was 

85 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


easily  conquered,  all  its  caciques  submitting  to  the  King  of 
Spain.1 

But  destructive  as  are  the  eruptions  of  the  volcano  when 
it  belches  forth  ashes,  cinders  and  lava,  it  is  even  more  so 
when  its  terrific  operations  are  followed  by  deluges  of 
water  and  avalanches  of  mud,  carrying  along  with  them 
immense  blocks  of  ice  and  rock  to  great  distances,  causing 
death  and  devastation  all  along  their  course.  Such  an 
eruption  took  place  in  1877,  and,  so  great  was  the  velocity 
of  the  angry  flood  that  it  swept  the  plain  with  the  momen- 
tum of  an  express  train,  carrying  before  it  bridges,  build- 
ings and  everything  that  stood  in  its  path.  The  very  day 
of  the  eruption  the  irresistible  torrent  reached  the  mouth 
of  the  Esmeraldas  River,  nearly  three  hundred  miles  dis- 
tant. The  catastrophe  had  been  announced  the  preceding 
evening  by  an  enormous  column  of  black  ashes,  which  the 
roaring  mountain  projected  more  than  three  miles  above 
the  crater,  and  which  an  east  wind  carried  far  out  over  the 
Pacific.  Vessels  going  from  Guayaquil  to  Panama  were 
suddenly  enveloped  in  a cloud  of  dust,  and  transmitted  to 
Europe  and  the  United  States  the  first  news  of  the  disaster. 
After  this  eruption  of  ash  there  was  a welling  of  molten 
lava  over  the  rim  of  the  crater,  which  melted  the  ice  and 
snow  and  transformed  them  at  once  into  tremendous  ava- 
lanches of  mud.  At  the  same  time  immense  blocks  of  ice 
were  transported  across  the  plain  of  Latacunga  to  a dis- 
tance of  thirty  miles,  where  they  remained  several  months 
before  they  were  entirely  melted.  By  a singular  con- 
trast, the  summit  of  the  volcano,  which  is  ordinarily 
snow-white,  remained  for  a long  time  black  and  calcined, 
except  in  a few  spots  that  had  escaped  the  streams  of 
lava.2 

The  foregoing  is  only  one  of  many  similar  eruptions  that 
occurred  during  the  last  century,  and  that  contributed  so 

1 Jorge  Juan  and  Antonio  de  TJlloa,  Op.  eit.,  Vol.  I,  p.  253,  and  Herrera,  ut. 
sup.,  Lib.  V,  Cap.  VII. 

2 Reclus,  Op.  cit.,  p.  419. 


86 


A LAND  OF  VOLCANOES 


much  toward  sterilizing  the  surrounding  country,  and 
rendering  Cotopaxi  so  formidable  to  the  inhabitants  who 
live  in  its  vicinity.  ' It  is  a constant  menace  to  life  and 
property  and  it  is  often  so  quick  in  its  action  that  its  vic- 
tims have  no  time  to  escape. 

But  terrible  as  are  the  catastrophes  that  accompany  vol- 
canic action  in  this  extraordinary  plateau,  they  might  be 
much  greater  and  extend  over  a much  wider  territory. 
According  to  L.  Dressel,  there  are  on  the  highlands  of 
Ecuador  no  fewer  than  thirty-nine  volcanoes,  forming  what 
has  aptly  been  called  “an  avenue  of  volcanoes,”  extending 
from  the  northern  to  the  southern  boundaries  of  the  repub- 
lic. Nowhere  else  in  the  world  are  there  so  many  vol- 
canoes within  the  same  area.  Only  in  the  island  of  Hawaii 
is  there  a center  of  volcanic  energy  at  all  comparable  with 
that  which  distinguishes  Ecuador.  Humboldt  does  not 
exaggerate  when,  in  his  Views  of  Nature,  he  declares,  “The 
whole  elevated  tableland  of  Quito,  which  is  surmounted  by 
the  high  mountains  of  Pichincha,  Cotopaxi  and  Tunguragua, 
constitutes  one  sole  volcanic  hearth.  The  subterranean 
fire  bursts  sometimes  from  one  and  sometimes  from  another 
of  these  openings,  which  have  generally  been  regarded  as 
independent  volcanoes.”  1 In  consequence  of  this  the  earth 
must  present  to  inquisitive  Martians — if  such  beings  exist 
— the  same  appearance  as  the  surface  of  the  moon  exhibits 
to  us  when  viewed  through  a powerful  telescope — so  seared 
and  pitted  is  it  by  the  long-continued  action  of  our  globe’s 
most  active  volcanic  fires. 

Fortunately  there  are  never  more  than  two  or  three  of 
these  volcanoes  active  at  the  same  time.  If  all,  or  even  a 
great  number  of  them,  were  simultaneously  to  vomit  forth 
ashes,  cinders,  and  lava,  the  imagination  would  fail  to  pic- 
ture the  wide-spread  devastation  that  would  ensue.  It 
would  be  like  the  return  of  at  least  a part  of  the  earth  to 
its  original  condition  of  darkness  and  chaos. 

But  why,  it  will  be  asked,  do  people  live  in  a land  in 

i Bohn  edition,  p.  360. 


87 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

which  they  are  constantly  exposed  to  such  sudden  and 
awful  disasters — where  thousands  of  victims  are  sacrificed 
in  a single  moment?  Why  do  people  cling  to  the  rich  flanks 
of  Kiluea  and  Mauna  Loa,  and  huddle  around  the  treacher- 
ous slopes  of  vine-clad  Etna  and  Vesuvius,  or  pitch  their 
tents  on  quaking,  incandescent  Stromboli?  Let  philoso- 
phers reply. 

While  traveling  in  Ecuador,  one  is  sure  to  hear  strange 
stories  and  legends  about  certain  volcanoes,  especially 
Cotopaxi,  Sangai,  Tunguragua  and  Imbabura.  These,  we 
are  assured,  eject  not  only  ashes,  cinders,  scoria  and  lava, 
but  also  water.  This  water,  we  are  informed,  exists  in 
immense  subterranean  reservoirs  connected  with  the  funnel 
of  the  crater,  and  when  the  volcanoes  are  in  eruption,  gives 
rise  to  the  devastating  floods  and  mud  avalanches  to  which 
reference  has  just  been  made. 

But  a more  marvelous  story  is  that  these  volcanoes  fre- 
quently eject  vast  numbers  of  fish  with  the  water,  which, 
on  decaying,  so  infect  the  atmosphere  as  to  cause  wide- 
spread disease. 

The  historian  Velasco  seems  to  be  the  one  who  first  gave 
currency  to  these  stories,  which  were  accepted  without  con- 
tradiction for  several  generations.1  Even  Humboldt  was 
misled  by  Velasco’s  statements,  for  he  relates  that  Imba- 
bura, during  the  great  eruption  of  1691,  ejected  mud  con- 
taining so  many  prenadillas — a species  of  fish  which  he 
calls  Pimelodus  cyclopum — that  the  surrounding  atmos- 
phere was  so  poisoned  that  it  gave  rise  to  malignant  fevers 
among  many  of  the  inhabitants  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
volcano.2 

In  the  first  volume  devoted  to  the  zoological  work  of  his 
South  American  journey,  Humboldt  gives  us  a figure  and 
description  of  this  extraordinary  fish — more  remarkable  by 
far  than  any  salamander  of  fable — and  devotes  several 
pages  to  an  account  of  it  under  the  caption  of  Memoire  sur 

1 Historia  del  Reino  de  Quito,  Tom.  I,  p.  11,  Quito,  1S44. 

2 Views  of  Nature,  ut.  sup.,  p.  367,  and  Kosmos,  V,  p.  32. 

88 


A LAND  OF  VOLCANOES 

une  nouvelle  espece  de  Pemelode,  jetee  par  les  volcans  du 
Royaume  de  Quito J 

Since  Humboldt’s  time  this  fable  about  the  Pimelodus, 
or  Cyclopium  Cyclopum — a more  appropriate  name — has 
occupied  an  important  place  in  works  on  natural  history 
and  all  the  marvels  related  of  this  extraordinary  fish  have 
been  accepted  as  indisputable  facts.  The  fable,  however, 
is  in  keeping  with  that  of  monkey  bridges,  originated  ap- 
parently by  Acosta  and  endorsed  later  by  such  distinguished 
men  of  science  as  Jorge  Juan  and  Antonio  de  Ulloa. 

But  these  stories  about  the  ejecting  of  water,  mud  and 
fish  from  volcanoes  are  not  the  only  ones  of  Velasco  which 
the  illustrious  German  naturalist  has  unwillingly  helped  to 
perpetuate.  It  well  illustrates  the  extent  of  human  cre- 
dulity among  even  the  wisest  of  men.  As,  at  times  bonus 
dormitat  Homerus,  so  also  does  Humboldt  fall  into  errors 
when  he  relies  too  much  on  reports  regarding  phenomena 
concerning  which  his  informants  were  not  competent  to 
form  an  opinion.  Had  he,  observes  Wolf,  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  himself  witnessing  one  of  the  eruptions  of  Coto- 
paxi, or  the  formation  of  one  of  those  aqueous  inundations, 
he  never  would  have  spoken  of  Cotopaxi  as  “a  water  vol- 
cano,” nor  would  he  have  maintained  that  the  mud  ava- 
lanches, and  still  less  the  prenadillas,  originated  in  its 
crater.2 

There  is  just  sufficient  substratum  of  truth  in  these  fables 
to  account  for  their  existence  until  the  phenomena  in  ques- 

1 In  Tom.  I of  Voyage  de  Humboldt  et  Bonpland,  Deuxieme  Partie,  Obser- 
vations de  Zoologie  et  de  VAnatomie  Compar6e,  Paris,  1811. 

2 Dr.  Moritz  Wagner,  in  his  Naturwissenschaftliche  Reisen  im  tropischen 
Amerika,  p.  415,  Stuttgart,  1870,  remarks  that  Humboldt  has  deservedly 
been  reproached  for  giving  too  much  credence  to  the  stories  of  the  natives 
of  the  regions  through  which  he  passed  concerning  matters  on  which  they 
were  not  competent  to  express  a just  opinion.  This  statement  is  remarkable, 
as  it  is  rarely  that  a German  permits  himself  to  criticize  any  of  the  pro- 
nouncements of  his  illustrious  countryman.  Dr.  Wagner  is  evidently  one  of 
those  who  do  not  love  Caesar  less  but  love  Rome  more — one  who  is  no 
respecter  of  persons  when  there  is  question  of  the  claims  of  truth  and 
scientific  accuracy. 


89 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


tion  were  so  thoroughly  examined — and  that  was  only  a 
few  decades  ago — that  all  the  questions  involved  can  now 
be  considered  as  definitely  settled.  It  is  now  known, 
thanks  to  the  investigations  of  Reiss,  Stiibel  and  Wolf,  that 
the  floods  of  water,  instead  of  coming  from  the  crater  of 
the  volcano,  which  was  supposed  to  be  connected  with  sub- 
terranean reservoirs,  are  produced  by  the  molten  lava 
coming  in  contact  with  the  ice  and  snow  on  its  summit. 
The  water,  thus  suddenly  formed,  rushing  down  the  pre- 
cipitous sides  of  the  mountain,  carries  with  it  ashes  and 
sand  and  forms  the  observed  avalanches  of  mud.  When 
these  floods  and  avalanches  encounter  streams  and  rivers 
in  their  onward  course  they  fill  their  channels  to  overflow- 
ing, when  occasionally  “multitudes  of  fish  are  borne  from 
their  native  haunts  and  left  stranded  when  the  waters  sub- 
side.” 1 

I shall  never  forget  the  surpassing  beauty  of  Cotopaxi 
and  the  fascination  it  always  exercised  over  me  whenever  it 
was  in  view.  So  perfectly  formed  and  symmetrical  is  its 
summit  that  it  has  been  called  the  “ideal  volcano”  of 
Ecuador.  Its  summit  is  a truncated  cone,  as  perfect  as  if 
it  had  been  turned  on  some  cosmic  lathe  at  the  time  of 
its  formation  in  the  Quaternary  period.  It  is  more 
symmetrical  even  than  the  cones  of  Mauna  Loa  and  Popo- 
catepetl, which  are  famous  for  the  regular  forms  of  their 
peaks.  Its  nearest  rival,  perhaps,  is  famous  Fujiyama, 
the  pride  of  Japan. 

When  I last  saw  Cotopaxi  it  was  illumined  by  the  glories 
of  the  setting  sun.  The  atmosphere  was  clear  and  serene 
— such  as  so  often  distinguishes  these  Andean  highlands — 
and  there  was  not  a single  cloud  to  obscure  the  immaculate 
mantle  that  draped  its  beauteous  form*  At  first,  the  cone 
was  radiantly  white,  like  molten  silver;  then  it  changed  to 
burnished  gold;  next  it  was  a light  rose  that  shaded  into 
brilliant  crimson,  while  the  part  below  the  snow  line  as- 

i Wolf,  op.  cit.,  pp.  252-53  and  643  et  seq.,  and  Whymper,  Travels  Amongst 
the  Great  Andes  of  the  Equator,  p.  252  et  seq.  New  York,  1892. 

90 


A LAND  OF  VOLCANOES 


sumed  at  first  a delicate  blue  and  then  a deep  indigo  hue, 
terminating  finally,  as  the  sun  dropped  behind  the  western 
Cordillera,  in  a dark  violet,  the  forerunner  of  the  somber 
shadow  of  night.  With  truth  could  Villavicencio  declare 
that,  when  seen  under  such  circumstances,  it  is  a spectacle 
that  must  “deeply  stir  the  soul,  even  of  those  who  are  least 
inclined  to  contemplate  with  enthusiasm  the  great  works  of 
Nature.”  1 

Latacunga,  like  all  other  towns  along  the  Guayaquil  and 
Quito  Railway,  is  beginning  to  exhibit  signs  of  life  and 
business  activity,  before  unknown.  Owing,  however,  to  the 
devastations  of  Cotopaxi  and  the  sterility  of  the  soil  of  the 
surrounding  country,  it  is  not  likely  ever  to  become  a com- 
mercial center  of  any  importance.  I am  glad  to  be  able  to 
give  a better  report  of  its  cleanliness  than  Hassaurek  and 
Orton,  who  seemed  to  have  followed  Ida  Pfeitfer  in  adver- 
tising it  as  headquarters  for  filth  and  fleas,  which  increase 
and  multiply  in  spite  of  revolutions  and  earthquakes,  and 
where  it  was  impossible  to  find  an  inn  in  which  the  traveler 
could  enjoy  any  comfort  whatever.  Truth  compels  me  to 
say  that  I was  more  fortunate  in  my  experience.  Not  only 
did  I note  an  absence  of  the  objectionable  features  com- 
plained of  by  previous  travelers,  but  I found  in  the  modest 
hotel  in  which  I sought  hospitality,  a clean  bed  and  an 
abundance  of  well-prepared,  wholesome  food. 

I can  also  make  the  same  statement  regarding  all  the 
hotels  at  which  I stopped  in  Ecuador.  They  were  all  clean 
and  well-kept,  and,  although  none  of  them  were  at  all  com- 
parable with  the  better  class  of  hostelries  in  the  United 
States  and  Europe,  there  was,  in  no  instance,  any  reason- 
able cause  for  complaint.  The  only  discomfort  I suffered 
in  Latacunga  was  from  insufficiency  of  bed-clothing.  Al- 
though I had  two  heavy  blankets  on  my  bed — as  many  as 
the  natives  ever  require,  apparently — I still  felt  cold.  This 
was  doubtless  owing  to  my  recent  arrival  from  the  hot 
lowlands.  When  I called  for  another  blanket,  the  young 

i Op.  cit.,  p.  46. 


91 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


peon  who  had  charge  of  my  room,  said  there  were  no  more 
available.  “The  house  is  full  of  guests,”  he  said,  “and 
there  is  not  a single  spare  blanket  to  be  had.”  When  I 
told  him  that  I really  needed  another  one,  as  I felt  very 
cold,  he  naively  suggested  that  I use  my  overcoat  in  lieu 
of  a blanket.  As  there  was  nothing  else  to  be  done,  I acted 
on  the  young  Indian’s  suggestion,  and  he  retired  smiling, 
satisfied,  no  doubt,  that  he  had  helped  me  out  of  a grave 
difficulty.  When,  on  leaving,  I handed  the  good-natured 
soul  a little  gratificacion  he  felt  convinced  I was  rewarding 
him  for  timely  advice  when,  in  his  estimation,  my  wits  were 
in  a creel.  Good  little  Ventura!  How  often  have  I re- 
called your  bright,  honest  face,  since  your  kindly  Adios  y 
feliz  viaje! 


92 


CHAPTER  Y 


QUITO  BONITO 

At  the  time  of  our  visit,  Latacunga  was  the  northern 
terminus  of  the  railroad,  but  the  work  on  the  unfinished 
part  was  being  pushed  to  a rapid  completion.  Owing,  how- 
ever, to  unforeseen  delays,  the  first  train  did  not  enter 
Quito  until  nearly  a year  later  than  the  date  called  for  by 
the  contract. 

The  usual  way  of  making  the  journey  from  Latacunga 
to  the  capital,  before  the  construction  of  the  railway,  was 
by  stage-coach.  But  the  journey  by  this  method  was,  for 
many  reasons,  extremely  trying  and  disagreeable,  although 
the  natives  did  not  seem  to  mind  it.  Fortunately  for  us, 
an  enterprising  company  had,  a short  time  previously,  put 
on  this  route  a number  of  strong  French  motor-cars,  and 
had,  at  the  same  time,  engaged  expert  French  chauffeurs  to 
operate  them.  We  lost  no  time  in  securing  one  of  these 
vehicles,  and  were  thus  able  to  reach  Quito  with  the  maxi- 
mum of  speed  and  comfort. 

The  road  over  which  we  passed  was  a most  agreeable  sur- 
prise to  us,  as  it  was  by  far  the  best  we  had  yet  seen  any- 
where in  South  America.  It  was  one  of  the  notable  public 
works  due  to  the  enterprise  of  Ecuador’s  most  illustrious 
president,  Garcia  Moreno.  It  is  said  to  have  cost  $2,000,- 
000  dollars,  but  it  was  worth  it.  As  a well-built,  well-kept 
highway,  it  compares  favorably  with  the  best  thorough- 
fares of  France  and  Germany,  and  that  is  high  praise. 
With  the  exception  of  the  last  few  miles,  near  the  capital, 
where  cobblestones  are  required,  it  is  an  ideal  road  for 
automobiles.  It  is  broad  and  smooth,  and  although  it 
crosses  several  mountain  spurs  and  ridges,  the  grade  is 

93 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

nowhere  heavy.  It  is  indeed  a splendid  specimen  of  en- 
gineering and,  as  an  example  of  road  construction  under 
extraordinary  difficulties,  it  could  be  studied  with  profit  by 
those  interested  in  work  of  this  kind. 

Along  this  stretch  of  road  my  attention  was  directed 
anew  to  a feature  of  the  country  that  I had  so  frequently 
noted  from  the  time  I had  left  Riobamba — the  small  amount 
of  water  in  the  rivers  and  streams  which  we  crossed,  or 
along  which  we  passed.  One  would  naturally  expect,  where 
there  are  so  many  snow-capped  mountains,  and  where  the 
annual  rainfall  is  so  great,  to  find  the  water-courses  flooded 
as  they  are  under  similar  conditions  in  other  parts  of  the 
world.  But  not  only  was  the  soil  to  a great  extent  dry  and 
bare  of  vegetation,  but  there  was,  as  a rule,  little  water  in 
any  of  the  channels  that  drain  the  plateau.  Owing  to  the 
porosity  of  the  sandy,  pumicious  soil,  most  of  the  water 
from  cloud  and  glacier  is  absorbed  as  soon  as  it  reaches 
the  tableland  and  does  not  come  to  the  surface  until,  at 
much  lower  elevations,  it  swells  the  rivers  that  flow  to  the 
Pacific,  or  the  countless  tributaries  of  the  mighty  Amazon. 
For  this  reason  the  inter- Andean  plateau  is  better  adapted 
to  grazing  than  to  agriculture.  We  saw  several  large 
flocks  and  herds  in  the  haciendas  through  which  we  passed, 
and  the  animals  were  usually  in  excellent  condition — re- 
minding us  of  the  better  class  of  cattle  and  sheep  we  had 
some  months  before  seen  in  the  famous  pasture-lands  of 
Venezuela  and  Colombia.  The  future  of  agriculture  in 
Ecuador  lies  in  the  rich  coast  lands  bordering  the  Pacific 
and  in  the  fertile  valleys  of  the  eastern  part  of  the  re- 
public. 

Most  of  the  people  we  met  on  the  way  were  Indians,  for 
in  Ecuador,  as  in  the  greater  part  of  South  America,  In- 
dians and  mestizos  constitute  the  majority  of  the  popula- 
tion. Here,  as  elsewhere,  we  found  them  gentle,  patient 
and  industrious;  fond  of  their  homes  and  devoted  to  their 
families.  Many  of  them  lived  in  extreme  poverty  and  ex- 
hibited traces  of  trial  and  suffering  that  could  not  be  con- 

94 


QUITO  BONITO 

cealed.  My  sympathy,  I confess,  always  went  out  to  these 
neglected  and  oppressed  people.  Their  cordial  greetings, 
“Buenos  dias,  Sehor,  Buenas  tardes,  mi  amo” — “Good  day, 
Sir,”  or  “Good  afternoon,  my  master,”  always  touched  a 
responsive  chord,  and  their  unvarying  kindness  and  disposi- 
tion to  oblige  completely  won  my  heart.  Ah,  if  they  could 
only  have  had  the  advantages  of  that  government  which  the 
saintly  Las  Casas  had  planned  for  them,  how  different 
would  be  their  condition  to-day ! Instead  of  being  so  often 
but  virtual  serfs  and  the  victims  of  untold  wrongs,  they 
would  be  the  happy,  prosperous  citizens  of  a great  and 
flourishing  commonwealth. 

I was  always  specially  interested  in  the  Indian  children, 
although  they  seemed  at  times  to  have  Spartan  mothers. 
I recall  one  case  in  particular,  on  our  way  to  Quito,  when 
I was  shivering  with  cold — although  I had  on  a heavy  over- 
coat— of  an  Indian  mother  giving  a three-year-old  boy  a 
bath  in  a vessel  of  ice-cold  water.  But  the  little  fellow, 
far  from  objecting  to  this  frigid  ablution,  seemed  to  enjoy 
it.  Not  far  from  this  spot  I met  another  mother  that  bore 
more  resemblance  to  the  mother  of  the  Macliabees,  or 
rather  to  Sara,  the  mother  of  the  patriarch  Isaac,  who,  ac- 
cording to  St.  Jerome  and  other  commentors,  did  not  wean 
her  son  until  he  was  between  the  age  of  five  and  twelve 
years.  In  the  doorway  of  her  humble  hut  was  seated  an 
Indian  woman,  and  standing  beside  her  was  a lusty  youth 
about  seven  years  old  taking  his  morning  repast  at  the 
maternal  breast.  It  was  not  such  a picture  as  Kaphael 
has  immortalized  in  his  Madonna  della  Sedia,  but  it  was, 
nevertheless,  a rare  and  touching  exhibition  of  motherly 
devotion  and  filial  affection.  I was  aware  that  under  the 
Incas  the  Quichua  mothers  were  wont  to  wean  their  chil- 
dren ‘ ‘ at  the  age  of  two  years  and  upwards,  ’ ’ 1 but,  al- 
though I had  frequently  seen  Indian  mothers  nursing 
children  about  two  years  old,  this  was  the  first  instance  I 

1 Garcilaso  de  la  Vega,  Comentarios  Reales  de  los  Incas,  Lib.  IV,  Cap. 
XI,  Madrid,  1723. 


95 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


had  ever  observed,  that  seemed  to  confirm  what  certain 
Scriptural  exegetes  have  taught  respecting  the  time  of 
weaning  of  the  son  of  Abraham. 

On  the  way  from  Riobamba  to  the  capital  I made  frequent 
inquiries  about  the  Inca  road,  which,  the  early  Spanish 
writers  tell  us,  extended  from  Quito  to  Cuzco  and  thence  to 
Chile,  and  which  Herrera  assures  us  was  full  twelve  hun- 
dred leagues  in  length,1  but  no  one  was  able  to  give  me  any 
information  about  it  and  nowhere  was  I able  to  detect  the 
slightest  trace  of  its  former  existence.  I had,  therefore, 
to  rest  satisfied  with  what  the  eminent  explorers  Wolf  and 
Reiss  have  to  say  about  what  they  saw  of  this  far-famed 
road  in  the  province  of  Azuay  in  the  southern  part  of  the 
republic.  Dr.  Reiss,  whose  opinion  Wolf  fully  endorses, 
declares,  “The  road  in  this  region  is  formed  of  the  irregu- 
lar surface  of  ancient  lavas,  and  there  are  no  vestiges  of 
cement  or  bitumen.  Great  and  ingenious  is  the  work  ex- 
ecuted by  the  Incas,  but  I do  not  understand  how  they  can 
have  been  compared  to  the  most  beautiful  highways  of  the 
Romans.2  I shall,  however,  have  more  to  say  on  this  in- 
teresting but  much  misunderstood  topic  in  a subsequent 
chapter. 

As  we  passed  along  the  serpentine  road  which  crosses  the 
ridge  of  Tiupullo — connecting  the  inactive  volcanoes, 
Illiniza  and  Ruminahui — we  constantly  had  before  us  the 
splendid,  snow-capped  dome  of  Cotopaxi.  It  was  not  in 
eruption  at  the  time,  but  about  every  half  hour  it  emitted 
immense  jets  of  vapor,  which,  after  describing  graceful 
volutes,  became  detached  from  the  crater  and  formed  light 
cumulus  clouds  that  soon  vanished  in  the  dry,  elevated  re- 
gions of  the  atmosphere.  So  fascinating  was  the  picture 

1 Salia  el  gran  Camino,  que  se  ha  dicho  de  esta  Ciudad  al  Cuzco  i otro,  que 
salia  del  que  llegaba  a Chile,  que  esta  coino  mil  doscientas  leguas  del  Quito, 
Dec.  V,  Lib.  VI,  Cap.  VI. 

2 Carta  del  doctor  W.  Reiss  d S.  E.  el  President e de  la  Republica,  sobre 
sus  viajes  a las  montanas  del  Sur  de  la  capital,  p.  19,  Quito,  1873,  and  T. 
Wolf,  Viajes  cientificos  por  la  Republica  del  Ecuador,  II,  La  Provincia  del 
Azuay,  p.  31,  Guayaquil,  1879. 


96 


QUITO  BONITO 

that  our  gaze  was  continually  fixed  on  it,  almost  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  everything  else  within  the  range  of  vision. 

As  I noted  the  periodic  action  of  this  colossal  safety- 
valve  of  the  Cordilleras,  and  recalled  its  destructive  opera- 
tions in  days  gone  by,  I thought  of  the  sublime  versicle  of 
the  Psalmist:  “He  looketh  upon  the  earth  and  maketh  it 

tremble;  He  toucheth  the  mountains  and  they  smoke.”  1 

From  the  summit  of  Tiupullo,  nearly  twelve  thousand 
feet  above  sea  level,  one  has  one  of  the  most  glorious  and 
extensive  views  in  Ecuador — even  more  imposing  than  that 
afforded  at  Riobamba.  To  the  south  are  Carihuairazo, 
Tunguragua  and  Chimborazo,  to  the  west  Illiniza  and 
Corazon,  to  the  east  Sincholagua  and  Cotopaxi,  to  the  north 
Cayamba  and  Cotocachi.  All  these  thrust  their  lofty  sum- 
mits above  the  line  of  perpetual  snow.2  The  lowest  of 
them  is  higher  than  the  loftiest  peak  in  the  United  States, 
while  some  of  them  are  nearly  a mile  nearer  the  azure 
vault  of  heaven  than  the  most  elevated  point  of  Mont 
Blanc.  Cotopaxi  is  five  times  as  high  as  Mount  Vesuvius. 
Indeed  the  celebrated  Italian  volcano  might  be  placed  on 
the  summit  of  Pike’s  Peak,  one  of  the  giants  of  the  Rocky 
Mountain  range,  and  yet  its  crest  would  still  be  a third  of 
a mile  beneath  the  crater  of  Cotopaxi. 

“All  that  expands  the  spirit,  yet  appals, 

Gathers  around  this  summit,  as  if  to  show 
How  earth  may  pierce  to  heaven,  yet  leave 
vain  man  below.” 

Padre  Velasco,  the  historian  of  Ecuador,  declares  that 
Ecuador  is  “the  noblest  portion  of  the  New  World.”  To 
the  lover  of  grandeur  and  sublimity  in  mountain  scenery 
this  is  certainly  true.  Nowhere  else  within  the  same  area 

1 Psalm  CIII,  32. 

2 According  to  Reiss  and  Stiibel  the  mean  altitude  for  the  line  of  perpetual 
snow  for  the  western  Cordillera  is  4,742  meters;  for  the  eastern  Cordillera 
it  is  4,564  meters,  which  would  give  a general  average  of  4,653  meters,  about 
five  hundred  feet  lower  than  the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc. 

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ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


is  there  such  a magnificent  galaxy  of  sky-piercing  moun- 
tain peaks  and  volcanoes.  From  the  summit  of  one  of  these 
mountains  one  may  count  sixteen  snow-capped  peaks,  all 
but  two  of  which  are  volcanoes  either  active,  dormant  or 
extinct.  Besides  these  there  are  dozens  of  mountains  of 
lower  altitude,  all,  however,  contributing  to  round  out  the 
grandest  and  most  inspiring  mountain  panorama  in  all  the 
world. 

This  lofty  ridge  of  Tiupullo,  without  referring  to  what 
occurred  during  the  conquest  of  the  country  by  the  Incas 
of  Peru,  has  been  the  silent  witness  of  many  events  inter- 
esting alike  to  the  historian  and  to  the  student  of  science. 
It  was  crossed  by  the  conquistador,  Sebastian  Bellacazar, 
when,  after  his  victory  over  Ruminahui,  he  continued  his 
course  northward  to  take  possession  of  the  ancient  capital 
of  the  Shiris,  before  starting  on  his  memorable  journey  in 
quest  of  El  Dorado  in  far-off  Cundinamarca.  It  saw  Gon- 
zalo  Pizarro  and  his  gallant  band  before  they  started  east- 
ward for  the  Land  of  Canela,  where  they  hoped  to  find 
treasures  of  cinnamon  that  would  rival  those  of  Java  and 
Ceylon.  It  greeted  his  lieutenant,  Francisco  Orellana,  the 
immortal  discoverer  of  the  Amazon,  on  his  way  to  the  Napo 
and  to  the  heart  of  an  unknown  continent.  It  watched, 
through  long  years,  the  arduous  labors  of  the  French 
Academicians  in  the  tremendous  task  of  measuring  arcs 
of  the  meridian  from  Ibarra  in  the  north  to  Tarqui  in  the 
south — labors  that  had  for  their  object  the  settling  for  all 
time  of  the  long-debated  question  regarding  the  shape  and 
magnitude  of  the  earth. 

While  thus  enchained  to  the  memories  of  the  past,  and 
absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  the  majestic  kaleidoscopic 
views  that  burst  upon  our  enchanted  vision  at  every  turn 
of  the  road,  we  were  suddenly  halted  by  a squad  of  sol- 
diers who  demanded  our  passports.  The  Ecuadorians  in 
our  party,  being  provided  with  these  important  documents, 
were  permitted  to  go  on,  but  as  we — my  American  com- 
panion and  I — did  not  have  them,  we  were  told  that  we 

98 


QUITO  BONITO 

should  be  taken  to  the  prefecture  of  the  police  until  we 
should  be  able  to  give  a satisfactory  account  of  ourselves. 
We  strongly  demurred  to  this,  and  told  the  officer  in  charge 
that  he  might  keep  us  under  surveillance  if  he  desired,  but 
that  it  was  important  for  us  to  reach  Quito  without  delay. 
He  said  he  had  no  discretion  in  the  matter  for  his  orders 
were  to  arrest  every  one  that  had  not  a police  passport. 
We  then  begged  permission  to  telephone  to  the  capital  for 
authorization  for  him  to  allow  us  to  proceed  on  our  jour- 
ney. This  he  declined  to  do.  He  said  we  would  have  to 
accompany  him  to  the  police  station,  whence  we  might 
send  a letter  to  the  capital  asking  for  permission  to  pro- 
ceed to  our  destination.  This  meant  a delay  of  several 
days  in  a most  uncomfortable  place.  Finally,  we  told  them 
that  we  were  American  citizens,  and  insisted  on  being  al- 
lowed to  communicate  by  telephone  with  the  American  min- 
ister in  Quito.  He  still  persisted  in  his  determination  to 
detain  us,  declaring  that  his  orders  were  peremptory  and 
admitted  of  no  exceptions.  But  he  had  scarcely  made  this 
statement,  when  he  beckoned  to  a subaltern,  with  whom  he 
entered  into  an  earnest  conference  for  a few  minutes.  He 
then  told  us  that  he  would  make  an  exception  in  our  case, 
because  we  were  Norte- Americanos,1  and  that  he  was  will- 
ing to  believe  that  we  were  not  actuated  by  any  sinister 
motives  in  traveling  without  a passport.  He  wished  us, 
however,  to  understand  that  he  was  assuming  a great  re- 
sponsibility in  thus  contravening  his  orders,  which  were 
explicit  and  included  every  one,  native  or  foreigner.  And 
he  concluded  by  saying  that  he  would  depend  on  us  to  use 

i The  people  of  the  United  States  are  thus  called  in  South  America  to 
distinguish  them  from  Sud- Americanos,  who  claim  to  be  as  much  Americanos 
as  the  inhabitants  of  our  northern  republic.  Travelers  from  our  country, 
introducing  themselves  by  the  ambiguous  term  ‘'Americans”  are  often  mis- 
taken for  the  citizens  of  one  of  the  republics  of  our  sister  continent.  The 
designation  “United  States”  is  equally  misleading,  for  it  may  mean  the 
United  States  of  Mexico  as  well  as  the  United  States  of  America,  or  the 
United  States  of  North  America,  as  our  country  is  often  called  in  South 
America. 


99 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


our  influence  with  the  American  Minister  in  his  behalf,  if 
his  superiors  should  call  him  to  account  for  exceeding  his 
authority  in  permitting  us  to  pass  out  of  this  jurisdiction 
without  the  necessary  passport. 

We  were  halted  in  a similar  manner  several  times  be- 
tween Tiupullo  and  Quito,  and  were  not  permitted  to  pro- 
ceed until  after  a spirited  parley  like  the  one  just  described. 
We  subsequently  learned  that  the  Ecuadorians  had  no  de- 
sire to  do  anything  that  might  involve  their  country  in  a 
controversy  with  the  United  States  with  which  they 
specially  desired  to  live  on  terms  of  closest  amity,  and  that 
for  this  reason  the  military  authorities  had  felt  justified  in 
treating  us  with  much  greater  leniency  than  they  would 
have  dared  to  show  their  own  countrymen.  To  avoid 
further  trouble,  however,  we  resolved  immediately  on  ar- 
riving in  Quito  to  secure  a police  passport.  Our  experi- 
ence in  Ecuador,  as  in  Venezuela,  had  taught  me  that  South 
American  revolutions,  while  rarely  a source  of  danger  to 
the  traveler,  who  has  no  connection  with  them,  may  often 
be  a cause  of  extreme  inconvenience  and  annoyance. 

Four  hours  after  leaving  Latacunga,  we  were  in  the 
capital  of  Ecuador.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  delays  just 
mentioned,  we  could  easily  have  made  the  journey  of  about 
sixty  miles  in  three  hours,  so  good  were  our  automobile 
and  the  roads  over  which  we  traveled.  As  it  was,  our 
average  speed  was  little,  if  any,  less  than  that  made  by  the 
ordinary  motor-car  in  our  own  country. 

Quito,  a city  of  about  sixty-five  thousand  inhabitants,  in 
most  respects  closely  resembles  Bogota.  Like  the  Colom- 
bian capital,  it  is  situated  at  the  base  of  a mountain  and 
overlooks  a broad  and  fertile  plain.  The  general  plan  of 
both  cities  and  the  style  of  architecture  are  identical.  Both 
places  are  enveloped  in  the  same  sixteenth-century  atmos- 
phere, and  one  almost  expects,  in  walking  along  the  streets, 
to  meet  an  accredited  representative  of  Charles  V,  or  of  the 
Council  of  the  Indies.  While  visiting  its  churches,  mon- 
asteries and  colleges,  one  is  transported  back  to  the  times 

100 


QUITO  BONITO 

of  the  conquistadores,  and  has  exhibited  before  him  at 
every  step,  all  the  local  color  of  a Spanish  city  in  the  days 
of  Cervantes  and  Calderon  de  la  Barca.  For  three  cen- 
turies and  more  this  Andean  capital  has  presented  prac- 
tically the  same  aspect,  except  that,  during  short  periods, 
there  has  been  a little  change  for  better  or  for  worse.  Its 
people,  like  those  of  many  Oriental  cities,  were  satisfied  to 
walk  in  the  footsteps  of  their  ancestors.  Aside  from  the 
wonderful  buildings  which  they  erected,  which  compare 
favorably  with  the  most  noted  in  South  America,  they 
achieved  but  little  in  commerce  and  the  arts  of  peace. 
Local  industries  were  limited  and  conducted  according  to 
primitive  methods.  Mercantile  relations  with  the  outside 
world  were  little  more  than  nominal,  and  for  long  genera- 
tions the  Presidency  of  Quito  seemed  to  suffer  almost  total 
eclipse.  At  times  less  was  heard  of  it  than  of  any  other 
country  in  the  southern  continent,  and  it  was  only  rarely 
that  a traveler  from  Europe,  outside  of  Spain,  had  the 
courage  or  the  desire  to  penetrate  its  interior.  Access  to 
the  capital  of  Colombia  was  difficult,  but  a journey  from 
the  coast  to  the  capital  of  Ecuador  was  more  arduous  and 
dangerous.  The  journey,  trying  as  it  was,  from  the  Mag- 
dalena to  Bogota,  could  be  made  in  two  or  three  days. 
From  Guayaquil  to  Quito,  even  during  the  dry  season,  in- 
volved a ten  days’  journey  on  mule-back  over  perilous  and 
at  times  almost  impassable  roads,  with  no  stopping  places 
en  route  that  offered  the  weary  traveler  the  ordinary  com- 
forts of  life.  During  the  wet  season  all  traffic  and  communi- 
cation with  the  outside  world  were,  of  necessity,  practically 
suspended. 

Great  as  was  our  surprise  in  finding  such  a city  as 
Bogota,  so  completely  isolated  from  the  rest  of  the  world, 
our  surprise  on  beholding  the  large  and  beautiful  capital  of 
Ecuador  was  greater.  Nestling  at  the  base  of  Pichincha 
— “the  boiling  mountain,”  as  the  natives  call  it,1  sur- 

1 Pichincha  is  now  dormant,  but  it  has  been  frequently  active  since  the 
time  of  the  conquest.  The  eruption  of  1670  was  one  of  the  most  terrific 

101 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


rounded  by  a cordon  of  snow-capped  volcanoes,  that  seem 
to  defy  intrusion  by  the  outside  world,  on  a plateau  nearly 
two  miles  above  the  waters  of  the  Pacific,  it  was,  until 
recently,  almost  as  inaccessible  as  the  home  of  the  Dalai- 
Lama  of  Thibet. 

But  notwithstanding  the  ever-menacing  volcano  towering 
above  it,  Quito  was  always  to  the  Ecuadorian  of  the  interior 
one  of  the  world’s  most  favored  cities.  It  was  what  Da- 
mascus and  Bagdad  in  their  halcyon  days  were  to  the  Arabs, 
what  Cordova  and  Granada  were  to  the  Moors.  It  was 
“Quito  bonito” — “charming  Quito” — the  city  above  the 
clouds,  “the  navel  of  the  world,  the  home  of  continua  prima- 
vera — perpetual  spring — evergreen,  magnificent  Quito.” 
It  was  like  heaven — Como  de  Cielo — where  there  is  neither 
heat  nor  cold.  It  was  a paradise  of  delights.  Had 
Columbus  discovered  the  beautiful  valley  which  it  over- 
looks, he  would,  we  are  assured,  have  pronounced  it  the 
site  of  the  Garden  of  Eden.  It  was,  declares  Padre 
Mariano  Andrade : 

“Esa  ciudad  donde  el  cielo 
Gasto  todos  sus  alifios 
Como  si  plantase  alii 
El  celeste  paraiso ; 

recorded  in  history.  Its  rumblings  and  explosions  were  audible  at  a dis- 
tance of  three  hundred  miles,  and  the  ashes  issuing  from  it  were,  it  is  esti- 
mated, spread  over  an  area  of  half  a million  square  miles.  The  ashes,  scoria 
and  other  material  ejected  from  the  volcano,  would,  it  was  calculated  at  the 
time,  have  sufficed  to  make  another  mountain  as  large  as  Pichincha  itself. 
Although  the  loss  of  life  and  property  caused  by  this  eruption  was  not  so 
great  as  that  caused  by  the  awful  eruption  of  Vesuvius  in  A.  D.  79,  when 
Pompeii  and  Herculaneum  were  destroyed,  many  of  the  phenomena  accom- 
panying the  two  were  identical.  A contemporary  writer,  Padre  Rodriguez  in 
his  El  Maranon  y Amazonas,  Lib.  IV,  Cap.  II,  gives  us  a graphic  description 
of  the  dynamic  possibilities  of  a great  Andean  volcano,  when  stirred  to 
action,  and  of  the  agonizing  terror  of  the  hapless  Quitonians,  while  awaiting 
the  impending  doom  of  their  beloved  city.  The  horrors  of  this  disaster  fully 
equaled  those  of  the  wrathful  Neapolitan  volcano  so  vividly  portrayed  by 
Pliny  in  writing  of  the  death  of  his  uncle,  and  by  Bulwer  in  the  Last  Days 
of  Pompeii. 


102 


QUITO  BONITO 


Alii  donde  amante  el  sol, 

Con  inseparable  giro, 

Esta  siempre  vertical 

Por  contemplar  aquel  sitio.  ’ ’ 1 

Hence  the  saying  among  the  Quitonians,  “de  Quito  al 
Cielo,” — “from  Quito  to  Heaven.” 

But  although  Quito  was  thus  isolated  from  the  rest  of  the 
civilized  world,  and  was  almost  unknown  in  the  marts  of 
commerce  and  in  the  cabinets  of  diplomacy,  it  was  by  no 
means  devoid  of  culture  or  opposed  to  intellectual  progress. 
Far  otherwise.  Its  literary  and  scientific  luminaries  at 
times  shone  as  brightly  as  those  of  its  northern  neighbor, 
Bogota,  and  their  contributions  to  science  and  literature 
make  a bright  page  in  the  annals  of  social  advancement. 
As  it  is  the  oldest  of  the  South  American  capitals,  so  was 
it  among  the  first  to  establish  schools  and  colleges.  The 
convent  of  the  Dominicans  founded  by  the  Venerable  Fray 
Alonso  de  Montenegro  became  a home  of  learning  im- 
mediately after  the  conquest  by  the  adelantado,  Sebas- 
tian de  Bellacazar.  The  college  of  San  Andres  was  estab- 
lished by  the  Franciscans  in  1556,  and  by  royal  cedula  was 
endowed  by  Philip  II  in  1562.  San  Andres  was  thus 
founded  only  two  years  later  than  the  first  college  of 
Bogota,  and  but  one  year  after  the  establishment  of  the 
famous  University  of  San  Marcos  in  Lima.  Several  other 
important  institutions  of  learning — colleges,  seminaries 
and  universities — followed  San  Andres  in  rapid  succession, 
and  before  the  end  of  the  century  Quito  was  a veritable 
metropolis  of  schools  and  scholars. 

Curiously  enough,  Quito’s  earliest  poet  was  a brother  of 
Spain’s  illustrious  saint  and  writer — Teresa  de  Jesus. 
He  was  succeeded  by  many  others,  one  of  whom  was  a 
woman — Dona  Dolores  Veintemilla  de  Galindo.  But  not  to 

1 “The  city  on  which  heaven  has  lavished  all  its  embellishments,  as  if  it 
were  the  celestial  paradise. 

“Straight  above  it,  the  sun,  in  its  unchanging  circuit,  ever  remains  fondly 
contemplating  the  scene.” 


103 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


mention  the  long  list  of  those  who,  as  poets,  historians,  men 
of  science,  orators,  jurists,  have  given  undying  glory  to 
their  country,  it  suffices  to  signalize  one — Don  Jose  Joaquin 
Olmedo — whose  poetry,  though  he  produced  but  little,  was 
of  such  merit  as  to  cause  him  to  be  ranked  among  the  three 
or  four  great  poets  of  the  New  World.  Indeed  there  are 
not  wanting  those  who  accord  him  the  primacy  of  honor  in 
the  literary  firmament  of  America.  So  exquisite  and  mas- 
terly are  some  of  his  odes,  especially  his  Canto  a Junin — 
an  ode  to  Bolivar — that  he  has  been  deservedly  called  the 
American  Pindar. 

To-day,  in  spite  of  the  turbulent  condition  of  the  country 
since  the  War  of  Independence  and  the  grave  financial' dif- 
ficulties the  government  has  had  to  confront,  education,  not 
only  in  Quito,  but  throughout  the  republic,  is  given  far  more 
attention  than  is  ordinarily  supposed.  President  Flores, 
in  1890,  in  his  message  to  the  Ecuadorian  Congress,  stated 
that,  “in  proportion  to  the  number  of  its  inhabitants,  Ecua- 
dor was  then  expending  more  money  for  public  instruction 
than  any  other  nation,  although  nowhere  else  were  the 
teachers  so  poorly  paid.”  And  Mr.  George  Earl  Church,  a 
distinguished  American  traveler,  referring  to  the  institu- 
tions conducted  by  nuns,  for  the  education  of  girls,  assures 
us  that  the  devoted  religious  in  charge  of  them,  “give  them- 
selves to  their  noble  tasks  with  a devotion  and  an  abnega- 
tion worthy  of  all  praise,  and  with  an  intelligence  and  skill 
that  would  do  honor  to  any  country.”  1 

Among  all  the  public  institutions  in  Quito  that  which 
possessed  the  greatest  interest  for  us  was  the  observatory. 
It  is  a noble  structure  in  a beautiful  park,  and  is  unique 
both  on  account  of  its  elevation  and  its  proximity  to  the 
equator.  Being  only  fifteen  miles  south  of  the  equinoctial, 
the  astronomers  in  the  Quito  observatory  can  direct  their 
telescopes  to  every  star  in  the  heavens.  Our  emotion  was 
great,  indeed,  when  in  this  sacred  precinct,  we  felt  that  we 
could,  from  a single  point,  gaze  upon  the  stars  and  constel- 

i Report  upon  Ecuador,  p.  48,  1881. 

104 


QUITO  BONITO 

lations  of  both  hemispheres — something  that  is  possible  in 
no  other  observatory  in  the  world.  To  the  north  were  the 
star  groups  that  we  had  been  familiar  with  from  our  youth, 
to  the  south  were  others,  no  less  interesting,  that  we  knew 
only  from  book  and  chart.  We  could  survey  at  a glance  all 
the  visible  stars  of  the  celestial  vault  from  Polaris,  to 
Octantis  at  the  opposite  pole  of  the  heavens.  At  certain 
seasons  of  the  year  one  might  contemplate  the  beauty  of 
the  most  attractive  constellations  in  the  heavens,  and  have 
within  view  two-thirds  of  the  stars  of  the  first  magnitude, 
one’s  vision  ranging  from 

‘ ‘ The  fleecy  star  that  bears 
Andromeda  far  off  Atlantic  seas.” 

to  flaming  Canopus,  in  distant  Argo,  that  carried 

“The  heroic  progeny  of  Greece, 

When  the  first  ship  sailed  for  the  Golden  Fleece — 

Argo — exalted  for  that  daring  feat 

To  fix  in  heaven  her  shape  distinct  with  stars.”  1 

While  gazing  at  the  stars,  which  be  jeweled  the  clear  blue 
sky  that  canopies  the  fair  city  of  Quito,  I almost  coveted 
the  vaunted  astrologic  power  of  a Lilly  or  a Nostrodamus 
in  order  that  I might  read,  in  their  bewildering  groupings 
and  mysterious  aspects,  the  future  history  of  the  enchant- 
ing land  of  the  Equator.  But  as  its  destiny  was  not  for 
me  to  show,  as  would  the  “astrologers  and  seers  of  old,” 
I had  to  be  content  with  such  foreknowledge  as  could  be 

i Humboldt,  commenting  on  “the  luminous  worlds  which  spangle  the  firma- 
ment from  pole  to  pole”  observes  that  “The  more  magnificent  portion  of  the 
southern  sky  in  which  shine  the  constellation  of  the  Centaur,  Argo  and  the 
Southern  Cross,  where  the  Magellanic  Clouds  shed  their  pale  light,  is  for- 
ever concealed  from  the  inhabitants  of  Europe.  It  is  only  under  the  equator 
that  man  enjoys  the  glorious  spectacle  of  all  the  stars  of  the  southern  and 
northern  heavens  revealed  at  one  glance.  Some  of  our  northern  constella- 
tions— as  for  instance,  Ursus  Major  and  Ursus  Minor — owing  to  their  low 
position  when  seen  from  the  region  of  the  equator,  appear  to  be  of  remark- 
able, almost  fearful  magnitude.”  Views  of  Nature,  p.  349,  Bohn  edition. 

105 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


gleaned  from  the  past  history  of  the  country,  and  from  a 
study  of  the  multiplicity  of  its  natural  resources. 

The  first  time  that  Ecuador  fully  awoke  from  her  age- 
long lethargy,  and  exhibited  evidence  of  national  vitality, 
was  under  the  administration  of  President  Garcia  Moreno, 
who  fell  a victim  to  brutal  assassins  in  1875,  while  he  was 
in  the  prime  of  life  and  actively  engaged  in  many  needed  re- 
forms and  enterprises  of  supreme  importance  to  the  well- 
being and  progress  of  his  country.  As  has  been  stated,  it 
is  to  his  energy  and  progressive  spirit  that  is  due  the 
splendid  highway  from  Quito  to  Sibambe,  and  which,  if  his 
life  had  been  spared,  would  have  been  completed  to  Guaya- 
quil. It  was  he  who  began  the  construction  of  the  rail- 
road— but  recently  completed — from  tidewater  to  the 
capital,  and  who  had  planned  a network  of  roads  con- 
necting the  principal  cities  of  the  republic  with  one  an- 
other and  with  various  new  ports  on  the  Pacific  coast. 
Had  he  lived  even  a few  years  longer  he  would  have  com- 
pleted a road  between  Quito  and  Esmeraldas,  thus  bring- 
ing the  national  capital  fifty  leagues  nearer  the  Pacific 
than  it  is  now,  and  have  realized  a project  that  was 
advocated  by  tbe  Genoese,  Vincenzo  Giustiniani  as 
far  back  as  1635,  a project  frequently  urged  since 
then,  but  as  yet  nothing  more  than  project.  He  would, 
at  the  same  time,  have  connected  the  capital  with  the 
Bay  of  Caraques,  and  withdrawn  Cuenca  and  Loja 
from  their  isolation  by  building  a road  to  the  port  of 
Naranjal. 

He  made  education  obligatory,  and  established  schools 
and  colleges  in  every  part  of  the  republic.  He  founded  a 
technical  school  and  a university  fully  equipped  with 
laboratories  and  apparatus,  and  manned  by  distinguished 
professors  from  Europe.  And  recalling  what  Humboldt 
and  Secclii  had  said  regarding  the  importance  of  having  an 
astronomical  observatory  in  Quito,  one  of  the  most  favor- 
able places  in  the  world,  he  caused  to  be  erected  and 
equipped,  regardless  of  cost,  the  noble  Observatorio  Astro- 

106 


QUITO  BONITO 

nomico,  which  is  the  pride  of  Ecuador,  and  which,  of  itself, 
would  suffice  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  its  founder. 

He  provided  for  the  thorough  sanitation  of  the  capital, 
something  much  needed,  improved  its  streets  and  plazas, 
founded  hospitals  and  asylums — in  a word  affected  so  com- 
plete a transformation  in  the  appearance  of  the  city,  that, 
for  the  first  time  in  its  history,  foreigners  could  visit  it 
without  finding  such  matter  for  criticism  as  is  recorded  in 
Ida  Pfeiffer’s  My  Second  Journey  Around  the  World,  and 
Hassaurek’s  Four  Years  Among  Spanish- Americans. 

He  reorganized  the  finances  of  the  country,  and  estab- 
lished the  nation’s  credit  on  a firm  basis,  both  at  home  and 
abroad.  He  fostered  industry  and  commerce,  and  en- 
couraged the  development  of  the  natural  resources  of  the 
country  in  a way  that  might,  if  consistently  followed,  as- 
sure the  rapid  and  continued  growth  of  the  young  republic. 

Besides  being  a man  of  broad  scholarship,  combined  with 
rare  culture  and  refinement,  he  was  endowed  with  a force 
of  character  and  a versatility  of  genius  that  enabled  him  to 
undertake  and  achieve  many  things  that  others  less  gifted 
and  energetic  would  pronounce  impossible.  He  was,  with- 
out doubt,  the  most  brilliant  statesman  that  South  America 
has  yet  produced,  and,  could  he  have  been  continued  in 
power  as  long  as  President  Diaz  of  Mexico,  he  would  have 
elevated  his  country  to  an  enviable  position  among  her 
sister  republics,  and  made  her,  in  proportion  to  her  area, 
second  to  none  of  them  in  commercial  activity  and  in  social 
and  economic  progress.  As  it  was,  he  accomplished  won- 
ders. It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  he  did  more  in  a 
decade  for  the  material  and  intellectual  uplifting  of  his 
country  than  had  been  accomplished  in  the  preceding  three 
After  Moreno’s  tragic  death,  the  country  reverted  to  its 
former  condition  of  decadence  and  misrule,  for  there  was 
no  one  competent  to  continue  his  work  and  carry  his  many 
splendid  undertakings  to  a successful  issue.  Fortunately 
for  the  impoverished  republic,  the  present  administration 

107 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


has  had  the  activity  and  the  courage  to  take  up  anew  some 
of  the  enterprises  that  the  assassin  did  not  permit  their 
noble  originator  to  complete,  and  Ecuador  is  again  in  a fair 
way  to  enjoy  its  natural  advantages  and  the  prosperity  that 
Moreno  strove  so  valiantly  to  secure  for  her  forty  years  ago. 
Every  lover  of  progress  will  watch  with  interest  the  efforts 
now  made  by  the  struggling  land  of  the  Equator,  and  will 
be  gratified  in  seeing  it  successfully  work  out  that  splendid 
destiny  which  Nature  seems  to  have  marked  out  for  it  and 
to  achieve  which  a beneficent  Providence  has  blessed  her 
with  every  treasure  of  mine  and  field  and  forest.  Much 
has  already  been  done,  but  there  is  yet  much  more  to  be  ac- 
complished before  Ecuador  can  reasonably  aspire  to  the  po- 
sition that  should  naturally  be  hers.  The  way  to  success 
has  been  pointed  out,  and  the  fondest  wishes  of  Ecuadorian 
patriots  are  now  within  a measurable  distance  of  being  re- 
alized, but  final  success,  and  the  glory  to  the  country  con- 
sequent on  its  taking  its  proper  place  among  the  nations 
of  the  world,  is  contingent  on  its  carrying  out  fully  and  hon- 
estly the  splendidly-conceived  and  far-reaching  plans  of  its 
illustrious,  martyr-president,  Gabriel  Garcia  Moreno.1 

i Of  this  remarkable  man  Professor  Orton,  an  American,  in  his  work,  The 
Andes  and  the  Amazon,  p.  73,  writes  that  “he  stands  head  and  shoulders 
above  his  fellow  citizens.”  An  Englishman,  Mr.  Whymper,  in  his  Travels 
among  the  Great  Andes  of  the  Equator,  p.  265,  informs  us  that  “compulsory 
education  was  established  by  Garcia  Moreno  in  Ecuador  before  it  was  intro- 
duced into  Great  Britain,  and  in  1880,  in  the  interior  it  was  exceptional  to 
find  a person  who  could  not  read.”  Sr.  M.  Menendez  y Pelayo,  in  the 
Antologia  de  Poetas  Hispano-Americanos,  Publicada  por  la  Real  Academia 
Espahola,  Tom.  Ill,  p.  CXLVIII,  after  referring  to  Garcia  Moreno’s  great 
gifts  as  a poet  and  prose  writer,  concluded  as  follows:  “The  greatness  of 

his  administration,  the  integrity  of  his  character  and  the  glory  of  his  death 
make  him  one  of  the  noblest  types  of  human  dignity  that  can  glorify  our 
race  in  the  present  century.  The  republic  that  produced  such  a man  may 
be  poor,  obscure  and  forgotten,  but  with  him  it  has  enough  to  live  in  history 
with  honor.” 

Many  biographies  have  appeared  of  this  eminent  statesman  and  patriot, 
but  if  the  reader  desires  to  have  an  adequate  idea  of  his  life,  opinions  and 
ideals,  he  should  consult  his  collected  works  published  in  two  volumes, 
entitled  Escritos  y Discursos,  Quito,  1887-1888. 


108 


CHAPTER  VI 


A RAINLESS  COAST 

Our  last  view  of  Ecuador  was  fully  as  entrancing  as  the 
first.  It  was  from  the  deck  of  the  steamer  that  was 
to  take  us  to  Callao,  the  principal  port  of  Peru,  and 
was  but  a few  moments  before  sunset.  Our  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  Andes — riveted  on  them  by  a kind  of  fasci- 
nation that  was  quite  irresistible.  For  months  we 
had  made  our  home  among  them,  but  the  more  we  saw  of 
them  the  more  completely  we  felt  ourselves  under  their 
mysterious  spell.  As  seen  from  the  Caribbean  and  the 
lofty  tablelands  of  Colombia,  their  magnitude  and  sub- 
limity seemed  incomparable,  but  as  viewed  from  the  pla- 
teau of  Ecuador  and  the  Gulf  of  Guayaquil  they  were 
matchless,  supreme.  Rising  majestically  far  above  the 
boundless  forests  at  their  feet,  their  snow-capped 
peaks  are,  of  a truth,  the  companions  of  “the  morning  star 
at  dawn”  and  of  Hesperus  at  eventide,  while  during  their 
mighty  vigils  they  are  visited  by  “troops  of  stars”  that  si- 
lently hymn  their  Creator’s  praise. 

While  we  thus  stood  enrapt  in  contemplation  of  the  won- 
derful scene  before  us,  there  suddenly  appeared,  beyond 
and  above  the  vast  mountain  chain,  the  colossal  form  of 
Chimborazo.  The  clouds  that  had  enveloped  him  had  van- 
ished as  if  by  magic,  and  he  stood  forth  as  the  proud  mon- 
arch of  a Titanic  race,  “the  parent  of  perpetual  streams,” 
of  “motionless  torrents,  silent  cataracts,”  his  countenance 
suffused  with  rosy  light,  and  his  shoulders  clothed 
with  rainbows.  The  vision  was  indeed  one  of  surpassing 
grandeur  and  magnificence — such  as  one  may  be  fa- 
vored with  but  once  in  a lifetime,  and  our  dilating  souls 

109 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


sought  expression  for  the  emotion  experienced,  in  the  words 
of  a hymn  by  Coleridge,  inspired  by  a view  of  Mont  Blanc 
from  the  vale  of  Chamouni: 


“Rise,  0 ever  rise, 

Rise  like  a cloud  of  incense  from  the  earth! 

Thou  Kingly  Spirit  throned  among  the  hills, 

Thou  dread  ambassador  from  Earth  to  Heaven. 

Great  hierarch ! tell  thou  the  silent  sky, 

And  tell  the  stars,  and  tell  yon  setting  1 sun, 

Earth,  with  her  thousand  voices,  praises  God.” 

The  vision  of  the  stupendous  mountain  and  its  sky-point- 
ing satellites  was  of  brief  duration.  The  sun  dropped  be- 
low the  western  wave,  and  the  Cordillera  was  soon  mantled 
by  the  rapidly-deepening  gloom.  Little  was  now  visible 
except  the  Malecon  of  Guayaquil,  which  was  gay  with  its 
long  rows  of  lights,  and  the  Aduana — custom  house — which 
was  brilliantly  illuminated  by  a powerful  arc-light  sus- 
pended in  front  of  its  lofty  tower.  The  Malecon,  as  it  then 
appeared,  was  not  unlike  a midnight  view,  from  a pleasure 
boat,  of  the  brilliantly-lighted  promenade  that  skirts  the 
urban  section  of  the  bay  of  Naples. 

A few  paces  from  where  we  were  standing  was  a bevy  of 
happy,  laughing,  young  school  girls  bound  for  Lima  and 
Arequipa.  They  were  returning  from  Europe  and  the 
United  States,  where  they  had  spent  several  years  in  vari- 
ous schools  and  were  all  rejoicing  in  the  thought  of  soon 
seeing  the  loved  ones  at  home  from  whom  they  had  been  so 
long  separated. 

Among  them  was  a bright  young  lady  from  Boston,  who 
was  going  to  South  America  for  the  first  time — apparently 
as  the  guest  of  one  of  her  companions.  Everything  seemed 
new  to  her  and  she  fairly  reveled  in  her  tropical  surround- 
ings. The  Indian  balsas  laden  with  fruit,  and  their  owners, 
the  towering  palms  with  their  graceful  fronds,  the  Cordi- 
lleras with  their  prodigious  peaks,  all  received  in  turn  a 

1 The  poet  has  “rising”  sun. 

110 


A RAINLESS  COAST 


share  of  her  rapturous  admiration.  Her  enthusiasm  was 
as  boundless  as  it  was  intense.  When  the  things  of  earth 
had  been  veiled  in  darkness  she  directed  her  attention  to 
the  stars  and  constellations,  which  were  as  strange  to  her 
as  they  were  familiar  to  her  companions.  But  at  last  she 
espied  one  star  and  one  constellation  that  she  recognized. 

“0  girls!”  she  cried,  “look!  there  is  the  Dipper.  It  is 
just  above  the  horizon.  Isn’t  it  lovely?  I never  saw  it  so 
low  before.  Why,  it  is  quite  on  a level  with  Guayaquil. 
And  did  you  ever  see  the  Pole-star  shine  so  brightly? 
That,  of  course,  is  due  to  the  transparent  atmosphere  of 
the  tropics.  Isn’t  it  perfectly  grand?” 

The  Peruvian  girls  shared  the  enthusiasm  of  their  Bos- 
ton friend.  The  Dipper  was  “lovely”  and  “grand,”  and 
the  Pole-star  was  of  unusual  brightness. — But  they  had  all 
forgotten  that  they  were  then  more  than  two  degrees  south 
of  the  equator,  and  that  the  Pole-star  was,  therefore,  quite 
invisible  from  where  they  stood.  The  Dipper  which  they 
saw  was  composed  of  some  electric  lights  in  front  of  the 
custom-house,  while  the  bright  Pole-star  was  the  radiant 
arc-light  in  the  tower.  We  then  realized  as  never  before 
the  truth  of  the  old  saying,  “Where  ignorance  is  bliss,  ’tis 
folly  to  be  wise.” 

At  dinner,  after  this  interesting  little  episode,  the  pas- 
sengers at  the  captain’s  table  were  much  amused  by  an  Ital- 
ian engineer  who  insisted  on  giving  at  length  his  impres- 
sions of  the  Panama  Canal.  He  had  seen  it  only  from  the 
railway  car,  and  had  spent  only  a few  hours  in  the  Canal 
Zone,  but  that  sufficed  for  him  to  arrive  at  conclusions  dia- 
metrically opposite  to  those  of  the  American  engineers  who 
have  charge  of  the  work.  From  his  view-point  everything 
was  wrong,  and  the  United  States  was  undertaking  the  im- 
possible. Indeed,  he  could  not  have  said  more  against  the 
enterprise  if  he  had  read  some  of  the  sensational  articles 
written  against  it  at  the  time  our  government  began  opera- 
tions on  the  Isthmus. 

A quiet  old  professor  from  New  York,  seeing  that  the 

111 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

Italian’s  disquisition  was  assuming  an  unreasonable  length, 
asked  him  if  be  was  not  surprised  to  find  Panama  east  of 
Colon.  The  effect  produced  was  as  instantaneous  as  that 
of  a percussion  cap.  The  lecture  on  the  canal  was  dropped 
at  once,  and  the  engineer  forthwith  proceeded  to  show  the 
absurdity  of  the  professor’s  question.  “I  did  not,”  he  said, 
“find  Panama  east  of  Colon.  I found  it  west,  as  every- 
body else  does.  Panama  is  on  the  Pacific,  isn’t  it?”  ad- 
dressing himself  to  the  professor.  Receiving  an  affirmative 
answer,  he  continued,  “And  Colon  is  on  the  Atlantic,  isn’t 
it?”  The  professor  conceded  that  it  was.  “Well,  then, 
everybody  knows  that  the  Pacific  is  west  of  the  Atlantic. 
Ergo,  Panama  is  west  of  Colon.”  The  professor,  however, 
insisted  and  maintained  that  Panama  was  not  only  east  of 
Colon,  but  fully  twenty  miles  east  of  that  Atlantic  port,  as 
could  be  seen  by  consulting  the  map  in  the  captain’s  chart 
room. 

The  Italian  got  excited.  Violently  striking  the  table  with 
clenched  fist,  and  eying  the  imperturbable  New  Yorker,  he 
vociferated,  “I  will  bet  the  champagne  for  all  the  passen- 
gers aboard,  that  Panama  is  west  of  Colon,  and  will  leave 
the  decision  of  the  question  to  the  captain.” 

Nothing  more  was  said  about  the  matter  until  the  next 
evening  at  dinner,  when  the  professor  quietly  asked  the 
captain  what  brand  of  champagne  he  preferred.  The  cap- 
tain replied  that  he  thought  Pommery  Sec  was  about  as 
good  as  any.  The  other  passengers  concurred  with  the  cap- 
tain, and  the  Italian,  seeing  that  there  was  no  escape — for 
he  had  consulted  the  map  and  found  that  he  had  been  mis- 
taken about  the  relative  positions  of  Panama  and  Colon — 
called  the  steward  and  ordered  Pommery  Sec  for  all  hands. 

“It’s  all  right!”  interposed  the  Italian.  “I’ll  soon  get 
my  money  back  from  someone  on  this  same  question  by  bet- 
ting differently  the  next  time.” 

The  professor,  after  serenely  sipping  the  effervescent 
beverage,  asked  the  Italian  if  he  did  not  find  it  strange, 
while  at  Colon,  to  see  the  sun  set  in  the  Atlantic,  and  equally 

112 


A RAINLESS  COAST 


strange  while  at  Panama  to  see  it  rise  on  the  Pacific.  The 
Italian  looked  quizzically  at  his  interlocutor,  not  knowing 
whether  he  was  in  earnest  or  whether  he  was  indulging  in 
badinage.  Finally,  however,  he  declared  that  he  had  not 
observed  the  phenomena  referred  to  when  he  was  in  the  Ca- 
nal Zone,  but  that  he  would  consult  the  captain’s  map  and 
see  whether  they  were  possible  or  not.  But  he  did  not  show 
the  slightest  inclination  to  fall  into  any  more  traps,  or  to 
spend  any  more  money  on  champagne  for  the  professor  and 
his  friends.  He  was  willing  to  admit,  although  not  in  so 
many  words,  that  there  were  still  some  things  on  the  Isth- 
mus of  which  he  was  ignorant.  At  any  rate,  we  had  no 
more  free  lectures  on  the  Panama  Canal,  and  no  more  criti- 
cisms of  the  engineers  in  charge.  He  was,  however,  heard 
to  admit  to  the  professor  the  following  day  that  he  was  pre- 
pared, after  inspecting  the  captain’s  maps,  to  believe  that 
one  could  at  Colon  see  the  sun  set  in  the  Atlantic  and  rise 
on  the  Pacific  at  Panama. 

Among  the  other  passengers  aboard,  besides  those 
already  mentioned,  was  a number  of  civil  and  mining 
engineers  from  the  United  States  and  Europe.  Most  of 
them  were  young  men  just  graduated  from  college,  and 
were  starting  out  to  seek  fame  and  fortune  in  South  Ame- 
rica. Some  were  going  to  the  celebrated  mines  of  Cerro  de 
Pasco,  in  Peru;  others  were  bound  for  Bolivia,  to  take 
part  in  the  construction  of  the  new  railroad  that  is  to 
connect  La  Paz  with  Buenos  Aires.  Not  a few  of  them 
were  employes  of  the  Peruvian  Corporation  and  of  W.  R. 
Grace  and  Company,  that  control  such  vast  interests  in  va- 
rious parts  of  the  southern  continent. 

Among  them  was  a newly-married  couple  on  their  honey- 
moon. The  groom  had  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  life 
in  Peru,  but  going  to  New  York  on  business,  became 
seriously  ill  and  was  confined  to  the  hospital  for  several 
months.  During  his  convalescence  he  and  his  nurse  became 
engaged  and  were  married  shortly  afterwards.  The  groom 
was  past  sixty  but  the  bride  was  many  years  his  junior. 

113 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


They  were  most  devotedly  attached  to  each  other,  and  the 
bride  never  tired  speaking  of  the  beautiful,  cozy  home  that 
her  husband  had  awaiting  her  on  one  of  the  islands  some 
distance  from  the  mainland.  “He  has  planned  it  all  him- 
self,” she  proudly  declared,  “and  I am  sure  we  shall  be 
perfectly  happy  there.  There  are  but  few  people  there, 
but  that  does  not  matter  so  long  as  I have  Pepe” — her 
husband’s  name — “with  me.”  To  her,  in  her  fond 
anticipations,  that  island  home,  all  planned  by  Pepe,  was 
a veritable  bower  in  an  ocean  paradise. 

The  first  Peruvian  port  reached  after  leaving  Guayaquil 
was  Tumbez.  This  had  a special  interest  for  me  as  it  was 
for  Pizarro  and  his  gallant  band  the  gate  of  the  Peruvian 
empire.  It  is  now  but  a poor  village  composed  of  a few 
squalid  huts,  but  if  we  may  credit  the  early  chroniclers,  it 
was,  at  the  time  of  the  first  visit  of  the  Spaniards,  a place 
of  great  wealth  and  importance,  and,  as  Cieza  de  Leon 
informs  us,  the  capital  of  “a  thickly  peopled  and  well 
cultivated”  region.1  Besides  having  a strongly  garrisoned 
fortress,  it  possessed  a richly  endowed  convent  for  the 
Virgins  of  the  Sun. 

The  gardens  of  the  convent,  according  to  Pedro  de  Can- 
dia,  the  Greek  cavalier  whom  Pizarro  commissioned  to 
report  on  the  place,  glowed  with  imitations  of  fruits  and 
vegetables,  all  in  pure  gold  and  silver,2  while  the  temple 
was  represented  “as  literally  tapestried  with  plates  of  gold 
and  silver.” 

Of  these  “imposing  structures”  of  a favorite  city  of  the 
famous  Inca  conqueror,  Huayna  Capac,  not  a vestige  is  now 
visible.  Even  in  the  time  of  Cieza  de  Leon,  who  visited  the 
place  in  1548,  shortly  after  the  advent  of  the  Spaniards, 
Tumbez  was  little  more  than  a mass  of  ruins. 

1 La  Cronica  del  Peru,  Cap.  LIII,  Madrid,  1906. 

2 Pedro  de  Candia  conto,  “Que  habia  visto  un  jardin  de  oro,  donde  habia 
muchas  yerbas  de  Indias  salidas  al  natural,  de  oro,  y muchas  frutas  de  lo 
mismo,  y otras  cosas  que  hoy  ignoramos  como  pudiesen  ser  por  no  haber 
hallado  los  Castellanos  de  aquellos  generos  en  tanta  abundancia,”  Fernando 
Montesinos.  Anales  del  Peru,  Tom.  I,  pp.  62-63,  Madrid,  1906. 

114 


A RAINLESS  COAST 


A short  sail  from  Tumbez  brought  us  to  our  next  port 
of  call — Payta — a word  which,  according  to  the  dis- 
tinguished Peruvian  geographer — Paz  Soldan — signifies  a 
desert,  where  nothing  grows  and  where  there  is  nothing. 
The  only  sign  of  vegetation  of  spontaneous  growth  is  a 
species  of  Mesembryanthemum. 

It  was,  however,  at  one  time  a place  of  great  commercial 
importance.  It  was  the  port  of  entry  of  Piura — San 
Miguel  de  Piura,  it  was  at  first  called — the  first  city  founded 
by  Pizarro  in  the  empire  of  the  Incas.  This  was  in  1531. 
Until  the  foundation  of  Lima,  Piura  served  as  a military 
base  for  the  Spanish  invaders.  But  long  after  this,  Payta 
was  one  of  the  chief  ports  of  Peru.  It  was  an  important 
distributing  point  for  merchandise  for  towns  in  the  interior 
of  the  viceroyalty,  but  was  more  noted  as  the  place  at  which 
passengers  from  Panama  disembarked,  to  continue  their 
journey  by  land  to  Lima.  Owing  to  the  powerful  antarctic 
current  and  the  strong  southerly  winds,  which  prevail  the 
greater  part  of  the  year,  the  journey  from  Payta  to  Lima, 
by  water,  was  long  and  arduous,  and  few  people  had  the  in- 
clination or  courage  to  make  it.  As  a choice  of  evils  they 
elected  the  land  journey  with  all  its  discomforts  and  pri- 
vations, and  these  were  numerous  enough  to  deter  any  but 
the  stoutest  hearts  from  undertaking  it. 

Jorge  Juan  and  Antonio  de  Ulloa,  writing  of  the 
disagreeable  and  fatiguing  voyage  from  Payta  to  Ca- 
llao, the  port  of  Lima,  declare  that  although  the  dis- 
tance is  but  one  hundred  and  forty  leagues,  “a  ship  is 
very  fortunate  to  perform  it  in  forty  or  fifty  days;  and 
even  if  after  spending  that  time  in  continual  labor, 
she  be  not  obliged  to  return  again  to  Payta;  such  acci- 
dents being  very  common ; and  it  is  nothing  extraor- 
dinary to  meet  with  two  or  three  misfortunes  of  the  same 
kind,  successively,  especially  if  the  ship  makes  a great 
deal  of  leeway,  when  it  is  often  a twelve  months’  task.” 
They  relate  here  a story  to  this  purpose,  that  “the  master 
of  a merchant  ship,  who  had  been  lately  married  at  Payta, 

115 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


took  his  wife  on  board  with  him,  in  order  to  carry  her  to 
Callao.  In  the  vessel  she  was  delivered  of  a son,  and  before 
the  ship  reached  Callao,  the  boy  could  read  distinctly.  For, 
after  turning  to  windward  two  or  three  months,  provisions 
growing  short,  the  master  put  into  some  port,  where  several 
months  were  spent  in  procuring  a fresh  supply;  and  after 
another  course  of  tacking,  the  same  ill  fortune  pursued 
him ; and  thus  four  or  five  years  were  spent  in  tacking  and 
victualing,  to  the  ruin  of  the  owner,  before  the  ship  reached 
Callao.”  1 

Considering  the  great  difficulties  encountered  in  reaching 
Peru,  especially  its  more  southern  portions,  it  is  surprising 
that  the  Spaniards  were  ever  able  to  conquer  and  colonize 
it.  For  the  difficulties  referred  to  existed  not  only  during 
the  earlier  period  of  the  country  but  obtained  almost  until 
the  War  of  Independence.  They  were  successfully  over- 
come only  when  steamships  replaced  sailing  vessels. 

Pavta,  which  has  one  of  the  best  harbors  of  the  republic, 
is  living  in  the  hope  of  regaining  the  prestige  she  so  long 
enjoyed  as  a commercial  emporium.  For  years  the  people 
of  Peru  have  been  planning  to  connect  by  rail  the  head 
waters  of  the  Amazon  with  the  Pacific.  Indeed,  as  early  as 
1843,  shortly  after  the  construction  of  the  first  railways  in 
England  and  the  United  States,  a certain  Rudecindo  Ga- 
rrido,  a Peruvian,  conceived  the  idea  of  building  a railroad 
between  Payta  and  San  Borja,  a port  on  the  left  bank  of  the 
Upper  Amazon,  near  the  celebrated  Pongo  de  Manseriche. 
And,  extraordinary  as  it  may  appear,  the  route  traced  for 
this  road  by  Sr.  Garrido  was  almost  exactly  the  same  as 
that  which  finds  most  favor  to-day,  after  the  country  has 
been  thoroughly  surveyed,  and  after  many  other  routes 
have  been  recommended  by  various  engineers  of  the  highest 
standing  in  their  profession. 

The  most  surprising  thing  about  Sr.  Garrido ’s  route  is 
the  low  elevation  at  which  it  crosses  the  crest  of  the  Andes. 
The  Cordilleras  are  always  thought  of  as  very  lofty  moun- 

i Op.  cit.,  Vol.  II,  Book  II,  Chap.  I. 

116 


A RAINLESS  COAST 


tains  throughout  their  entire  length  from  Panama  to  Pata- 
gonia. As  a rule,  the  chain  is  very  elevated.  Its  mean 
height  is  more  than  eleven  thousand  feet,  but  there  is  one 
depression  in  it  east  of  Payta  which  seems  to  have  been 
providentially  designed  for  a railway  between  the  Pacific 
and  the  mightiest  of  rivers.  This  pass,  near  the  village 
Huarmaca,  is  but  seven  thousand  feet  above  sea  level,  but 
a short  tunnel  through  the  crest  of  the  mountain  will  reduce 
this  elevation  to  less  than  five  thousand  feet.  This  is 
less  than  the  elevation  of  Denver,  and  a mile  below 
Leadville  and  several  of  the  railway  passes  of  Colorado, 
and  more  than  two  miles  below  Galera  tunnel,  through 
which  the  railroad  passes  on  its  way  from  Lima  to 
Oroya. 

The  length  of  the  contemplated  railway  from  Payta  to 
the  Amazon  would  be  less  than  four  hundred  miles,  and  no- 
where would  there  be  more  than  a two  per  cent,  grade. 
This  is  but  one-half  the  grade  of  some  of  our  Bocky  Moun- 
tain roads,  and  only  one-third  of  that  of  certain  sections  of 
the  Guayaquil  and  Quito  railroad.  It  would  pass  through 
a region  of  vast  agricultural  and  mineral  resources,  which 
hitherto  has  been  completely  neglected.  It  has  been  esti- 
mated that  its  iron  ore  deposits — some  of  it  magnetite  of 
the  best  quality — amount  to  several  hundred  million  tons — 
enough  to  supply  the  whole  of  South  America  with  iron 
for  centuries  to  come.  In  close  proximity  to  them  are  all 
the  coal  and  carbonate  of  lime  necessary  for  the  smelting 
of  the  ore,  and  sufficient  petroleum  for  supplying  the  loco- 
motives with  fuel  for  an  indefinite  period. 

But  the  greatest  advantages  that  would  accrue  from  the 
construction  of  such  a road  would  result  from  putting  the 
immense  Amazon  basin,  with  its  countless  treasures  of  all 
kinds,  within  easy  reach  of  the  great  commercial  centers  of 
the  United  States.  This  would  be  especially  true  after  the 
completion  of  the  Panama  Canal.  Then  one  could  go  from 
New  Orleans  to  Payta  in  six  days  and  to  Iquitos,  Peru’s 
greatest  commercial  center  on  the  Amazon,  in  nine  days, 

117 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


whereas  the  time  now  required  for  the  journey  from  New 
Orleans  is  a month,  at  least. 

Great,  however,  as  would  be  the  value  of  the  Payta- Ama- 
zon railway  to  the  general  commerce  of  the  world,  its  value 
to  Peru  would  be  incomparably  greater.  If  one  now 
wishes  to  go  from  Lima  to  Iquitos  with  any  comfort,  he 
must  go  by  way  of  New  York  or  Liverpool.  It  is,  of  course, 
possible  to  cross  the  Cordilleras  and  go  thither  directly, 
but  the  journey  is  so  arduous  that  only  the  most  resolute 
are  ever  willing  to  undertake  it.  With  the  Payta  railroad 
completed,  the  trip  from  Lima  to  Iquitos  could  be  made  in 
four  or  five  days. 

As  matters  now  stand,  El  Oriente — as  the  eastern  part 
of  Peru  is  called — is  practically  cut  off  from  the  rest  of  the 
nation.  When  one  learns  that  the  Oriente  constitutes  fully 
one-tliird  of  the  republic,  and  that  it  embraces  the  most  fer- 
tile lands  of  Peru,  one  can  realize  that  the  economic  inter- 
ests of  the  nation  demand  direct  railway  connection  between 
its  eastern  and  western  possessions,  and  that  such  connec- 
tion can  not  be  effected  too  soon.  The  marvel  to  the 
traveler  in  Peru  is  that  this  road,  so  essential  to  the  de- 
velopment of  the  nation’s  immense  resources  in  the  Upper 
Amazon,  has  not  long  since  been  an  actuality. 

More  than  this.  To  one  who  has  any  acquaintance  with 
the  history  of  South  America,  a railroad  in  the  north  of 
Peru,  from  the  Pacific  to  the  Amazon,  seems  to  be  a military 
necessity  that  cannot  be  ignored.  Important  as  it  undoubt- 
edly would  be  for  exploiting  the  treasures  of  field  and  for- 
est and  mine,  it  would  be  still  more  important  as  a means 
of  defense  against  possible  encroachments  on  the  part  of  its 
northern  and  eastern  neighbors.  It  would  avail  more  in 
settling  boundary  disputes  than  all  the  cedulas  to  which  the 
rival  nations  could  appeal.  When  the  Payta- Amazon  rail- 
way shall  be  completed — not  until  then — will  the  people 
who  have  so  long  been  separated  by  the  Andes  from  the 
rest  of  Peru  feel  that  they  really  constitute  an  integral  part 
of  the  once  vast  empire  of  the  Incas. 

118 


A RAINLESS  COAST 


The  road  can  be  built  for  a sum  not  exceeding  $10,000,- 
000.  For  a syndicate  looking  for  a promising  investment 
the  Payta-Amazon  railway  seems  exceptionally  attractive. 
Now,  that  the  stability  of  the  government  seems  to  be  as- 
sured, and  that  investors  can  have  all  reasonable  guaran- 
tees of  protection,  there  is  no  doubt  that  in  the  very  near 
future  foreign  capitalists  will  become  interested  in  the  en- 
terprise, and  it  would  not  be  surprising  if  a connection 
were  made  between  the  Pacific  and  the  Atlantic  by  way 
of  the  Amazon,  shortly  after  the  opening  of  the  Panama 
Canal. 

When  this  day  shall  arrive,  and  all  friends  of  progress 
hope  it  will  be  soon,  Payta  will  regain  its  lost  glory  and  will, 
with  a bound,  take  its  place  among  the  leading  ports  of  the 
Pacific  coast.  Then  will  her  happy  and  prosperous  people 
behold  in  their  beautiful  harbor  the  ships  of  every  nation, 
and  then,  with  the  Peruvian  poet,  Jose  S.  Chocando,  will 
her  merchant  princes  sing  of 

“La  turba  que  entonces  de  los  puertos  vibrantes 
De  la  Europa  Latina  llegara  a esa  region,” 


and  of 


“Las  naves  que  el  vapor  estimula 
De  Occidente  y Oriente,  Sur  y Norte  vendran, 

Como  iban  al  Faro  que  elevo  Alexandria 
Los  alados  veleros  de  la  Clasica  Edad.”  1 

I have  said,  quoting  Paz  Soldan,  that  Payta  signifies  a 
desert  where  nothing  grows.  It  doubtless  derived  this 
name  from  its  location  in  a sandy  plain.  But  Payta  is  not 
exceptional  in  this  respect  among  the  coast  towns  of  South 
America.  It  is  rather  the  rule  than  otherwise,  for  most  of 
the  towns  between  Tumhez  and  Valparaiso — a stretch  of 

i “The  multitude  that  will  then  come  to  this  region  from  the  busy  ports  of 
Southern  Europe.  Steam-driven  ships  will  come  from  West  and  East,  North 
and  South,  as  the  winged  craft  of  the  classic  age  went  to  the  Pharos  of 
Alexandria.” 


119 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


two  thousand  miles — are  similarly  situated.  Indeed,  with 
the  exception  of  a few  verdant  valleys  and  irrigated  plains, 
the  entire  coast-land  of  Peru  and  more  than  half  of  that  of 
Chile  is  a desolate,  treeless  waste.  In  some  sections — nota- 
bly in  the  deserts  of  Sechura  and  Atacama — the  land  is  as 
arid  and  as  unproductive  as  in  any  part  of  Sahara.  All  the 
early  Spanish  writers,  from  the  time  of  Cieza  de  Leon,  were 
deeply  impressed  with  this  feature  of  the  coast,  especially 
Acosta,  who  writes — “This  parte  of  the  world  which  we  call 
Peru  is  very  remarkeable,  and  containes  in  it  strange  prop- 
erties,” one  of  which  is  “that  it  never  rains,  thunders, 
snows  nor  hailes  in  all  this  coast,  which  is  a matter  worthy 
of  admiration.”  1 

Acosta,  however,  is  not  to  be  taken  literally  when  he  says 
it  never  rains.  It  is,  nevertheless,  quite  true  that  it  rains 
very  rarely,  and  then  the  amount  of  precipitation  is  usually 
very  small.  In  the  deserts,  properly  so  called,  to  the  south 
of  Piura,  in  the  plains  of  lea  and  in  the  pampa  of  Tunga, 
there  is  a total  absence  of  rain  for  twenty  or  thirty  years 
at  a time.  When  Boussingault  visited  the  northern  part 
of  the  Peruvian  coast  in  1832  he  found  that  there  had  been 
no  rainfall  during  the  preceding  eighty-eight  years. 

During  these  terrible  droughts  the  sky  turns  to  brass, 
and  there  is  a total  absence  of  those  beautiful  cloud  effects 
which  adorn  the  skies  of  other  lands.  As  may  readily  be 
imagined,  these  protracted  periods  of  aridity  are  frequently 
the  cause  of  immense  losses  to  the  inhabitants  and  of  much 
suffering  to  man  and  beast.  Water,  then,  in  many  places 
is  difficult  to  procure  and  must  often  be  brought  from  great 
distances  on  the  backs  of  man  or  animals.  In  Piura  there 
is  a saying  that  “each  drop  of  water  that  falls  from  heaven 
is  sufficient  for  a goat.” 

Sometimes,  however,  these  long  periods  of  drought  are 
succeeded  by  rainstorms  of  extraordinary  violence.  Thus, 
after  the  storm  of  1803  seventy-four  years  elapsed  before 
thunder  was  again  heard  in  Lima,  but,  towards  the  end  of 

i Op.  cit.,  Lib.  Ill,  Cap.  XX. 


120 


A RAINLESS  COAST 


1877,  thunder  and  rain  broke  upon  the  city  with  such  fury 
that  the  inhabitants  thought  it  would  be  laid  in  ruins. 

Captain  Maury,  in  his  work,  The  Physical  Geography  of 
the  Sea,  explains  this  extraordinary  phenomenon  of  a rain- 
less coast  bordering  the  world’s  greatest  ocean  as  follows: 
“The  reason,”  he  declares,  “is  plain.  The  southeast  trade- 
winds,  in  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  first  strike  the  water  on 
the  coast  of  Africa.  Travelling  to  the  northwest,  they 
blow  obliquely  across  the  ocean  until  they  reach  the  coast 
of  Brazil.  By  this  time  they  are  heavily  laden  with  vapor, 
which  they  continue  to  bear  across  the  continent,  depositing 
it  as  they  go  and  supplying  with  it  the  sources  of  the  Rio  de 
la  Plata  and  the  southern  tributaries  of  the  Amazon. 
Finally  they  reach  the  snow-capped  Andes,  and  here  is 
wrung  from  them  the  last  particle  of  moisture  that  the  very 
low  temperature  can  extract. 

“Reaching  the  summit  of  that  range  they  now  tumble 
down  as  cool  and  dry  winds  on  the  Pacific  slopes  beyond. 
Meeting  with  no  evaporating  surface,  and  with  no  tempera- 
ture colder  than  that  to  which  they  were  subjected  on  the 
mountain  tops,  they  reach  the  ocean  before  they  again  be- 
come charged  with  fresh  vapor,  and  before,  therefore,  they 
have  any  which  the  Peruvian  climate  can  extract.  The  last 
they  had  to  spare  was  deposited  as  snow  on  the  tops  of  the 
Cordilleras,  to  feed  mountain  streams  under  the  heat  of  the 
sun,  and  irrigate  the  valleys  on  the  western  slopes.”  1 

This  explanation,  however,  although  plausible  and  the  one 
generally  accepted,  is  not  satisfactory;  for  it  does  not  hold 
good  for  the  coasts  of  Ecuador  and  Colombia,  which  are 
covered  with  a dense  and  exuberant  vegetation.  The  phys- 
ical basis  for  a true  explanation  was  furnished  by  Humboldt 
when  he  made  his  celebrated  observations  on  the  temper- 
ature and  direction  of  the  great  antarctic  current,  which 
now  justly  hears  his  name.  He  discovered  in  1802  that 
the  temperature  of  the  ocean  at  Callao  was  7.5°  C.  lower 
than  that  of  the  superincumbent  atmosphere,  but  he  does  not 

1 Pp.  93-94,  New  York,  1856. 


121 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


seem  to  have  recognized  the  full  import  of  his  discovery. 
He  recognized  the  effect  in  lowering  the  temperature  of  the 
coast  line,  but  did  not  apparently  realize  that  it  was  the 
chief,  if  not  the  sole  cause  of  the  aridity  of  the  lands  which 
it  washes. 

The  proof  that  the  Humboldt  current  is  the  real  cause  of 
the  arid  condition  of  so  great  a stretch  of  land  on  the  Pa- 
cific coast  is  the  fact  that  the  desert  begins  where  the  cur- 
rent first  strikes  the  coast  near  Coquimbo  in  Chile,  and  ends 
where  the  current  veers  towards  the  west  at  Cabo  Blanco 
in  northern  Peru.  The  broad  and  deep  antarctic  current  so 
effectually  collects  the  moisture  from  the  superincumbent 
air  currents  that  when  they  reach  the  littoral,  whose  tem- 
perature is  several  degrees  higher  than  that  of  the  air,  pre- 
cipitation is  impossible,  except  in  the  more  elevated  portion 
of  the  Cordilleras  and  even  there  it  is  very  slight.  Only 
during  the  winter  season,  when  the  temperature  of  the  air 
and  the  land  approaches  equilibrium,  are  garuas — mists — 
engendered  in  the  lowlands,  and  only  then  are  occasional 
rainfalls  possible  in  the  higher  slopes  of  the  western  Cor- 
dillera. These,  however,  are  not  sufficient  to  excite  vigor- 
ous vegetation  or  to  produce  dense  forests  like  those  which 
are  found  in  the  southern  and  northern  parts  of  the  Pacific 
coast  where  the  influence  of  the  Humboldt  current  is  not 
felt. 

Along  the  littoral  of  Ecuador  and  Colombia  the  case  is 
the  very  opposite  of  what  obtains  in  Chile  and  Peru.  There 
the  temperature  of  the  ocean — between  28°  and  29°  C. — is 
much  higher  than  that  on  the  adjacent  land,  and  hence  those 
frequent  and  abundant  rainfalls  which  are  so  characteristic 
of  this  region. 

So  great,  indeed,  is  the  influence  of  the  Humboldt  current 
on  the  climate  of  the  Pacific  coast  that  it  can  be  asserted 
positively  that  if  it  were  to  continue  its  course  along  the 
land  as  far  northwards  as  Panama,  the  entire  littoral  of 
Ecuador  and  Colombia  would  be  as  much  of  a desert  as  is 
that  of  Peru  and  Chile.  If,  on  the  contrary,  the  Peruvian 

122 


A RAINLESS  COAST 


coast  were  washed  by  a tropical  sea  of  normal  temperature, 
like  that  bordering  Ecuador  and  Colombia,  the  present  des- 
ert wastes  of  Peru  would  immediately  be  adorned  with  rich- 
est verdure  and  the  most  luxuriant  of  forest  growths. 

Peru,  however,  does  not  purpose  waiting  for  the  Hum- 
boldt current  to  change  its  course  in  order  to  have  blooming 
gardens  and  smiling  haciendas.  For  some  years  past  the 
government  and  private  companies  have  given  much  atten- 
tion to  irrigation,  and  many  extensive  tracts,  that  before 
were  barren  areas,  are  now  under  cultivation,  and  are  a 
source  of  rapidly  increasing  revenue  to  their  owners  as 
well  as  to  the  national  government.  From  the  northern 
to  the  southern  boundaries  of  the  republic  large  reservoirs 
are  being  constructed,  and  thousands  of  acres  of  arid  waste 
are  annually  being  converted  into  fertile  rice  fields,  and 
productive  cotton  and  sugar  plantations.  New  irrigation 
canals  cross  the  reclaimed  lands  in  every  direction.  But 
often  the  long-abandoned  Inca  conduits  are  repaired  and, 
after  centuries  of  disuse,  are  again  pressed  into  service 
as  potent  factors  in  the  reclamation  of  extensive  areas  that 
have  been  entirely  neglected  almost  since  the  time  of  the 
Spanish  conquest. 

We  never  wearied  gazing  at  the  Andes,  which  at  a dis- 
tance looked  like  a regular  bastion,  surmounted  at  inter- 
vals by  lofty  pinnacles  of  crystalline  rocks,  or  extinct  or 
dormant  volcanoes.  Sometimes  they  were  separated  from 
the  Pacific  by  a narrow  plain,  but  at  others  the  massive 
barriers  invaded  the  sea  and  plunged  sheer  into  the  abys- 
mal depths  of  the  boundless  ocean.  Like  Dampier,  we 
were  often  amazed  at  their  “prodigious  hight.”  This  was 
particularly  the  case  when  the  precipitous  flanks  of  the 
wondrous  chains  mounted  skyward  from  the  ocean’s  wave. 
And  the  color  effects  of  the  vast  rock-masses  were  in  keep- 
ing with  the  grandeur  of  the  scene;  for  everywhere  there 
was. 

“A  splendor  of  purple  hills  that  touch  the  sky, 

A vastness  like  the  spaces  of  the  sea.” 

123 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

I 

But  nowhere  along  the  coast  did  we  see  “in  the 
mighty  ranges  of  the  Andes”  those  “stupendous  surges 
of  ice,  like  some  vast  ocean  that  had  been  suddenly  ar- 
rested and  frozen  up  in  the  midst  of  its  wild  and  tumultu- 
ous career,”  that  Prescott  describes,  and  still  less  did  we 
see  them  at  the  point  where  the  distinguished  historian 
locates  them — near  Piura — for  in  this  part  of  the  Cor- 
dillera, as  we  have  seen,  is  the  lowest  depression  in  the  en- 
tire Andean  chain  between  northern  Colombia  and  southern 
Chile.  As  the  line  of  perpetual  snow  in  the  western  Cor- 
dillera of  Peru  is  never  below  fifteen  thousand  feet,  and 
is  usually  considerably  higher  than  the  summit  of  Mont 
Blanc,  the  voyager  along  the  coast  never  sees  snow  on  the 
mountains  except  where 

“Old  Andes  thrusts  a craggy  spear 
Through  the  gray  clouds,” 

and  such  peaks  are  so  rare  that  one  might  travel  from  the 
northern  to  the  southern  boundaries  of  the  republic  with- 
out seeing  more  than  three  or  four  of  them.  Prescott’s 
Andes,  “whose  frosty  sides  far  above  the  clouds,  spread 
out  like  a curtain  of  burnished  silver,  that  seemed  to  con- 
nect the  heavens  with  the  earth,”  is  a striking  picture,  hut 
it  was  never  seen  by  Pizarro  and  his  followers  from  the 
coast  land,  nor  by  any  one  else  since  their  time.  Only  on 
the  lofty  tableland  of  the  interior  may  the  traveler  oc- 
casionally be  favored  with  such  a view,  but  never,  as  the 
brilliant  author  of  The  Conquest  of  Peru  imagined,  from 
the  lowlands  of  the  Pacific. 


124 


CHAPTER  YII 


WONDERS  OF  SEA  AND  MOUNTAIN 

One  evening,  as  the  sun  was  about  to  dip  into  the  ocean, 
the  passengers  were  aroused  by  a shrill  cry  of  “Whales! 
Whales!”  raised  on  our  starboard  quarter  by  the  bevy  of 
star-gazing  girls  who  had  attracted  so  much  attention  in 
the  harbor  of  Guayaquil.  As  usual,  the  young  lady  from 
Boston  was  the  most  enthusiastic  in  her  demonstrations 
of  interest.  Sure  enough,  only  a few  hundred  feet  distant 
was  a large  school  of  spermaceti  whales,  old  and  young, 
disporting  themselves  in  the  deep,  and  spouting  columns 
of  vapor  and  water  to  a height  of  from  ten  to  twenty  feet. 
Nearest  to  us  was  a colossal  male — an  “old  bull,”  as 
whalers  would  call  it — fully  eighty  feet  in  length,  with  a 
mouth  large  enough  for  a jolly-boat  and  her  crew  to  float 
in,  and  a perfect  type  of  Milton’s  leviathan, 

“Happily  slumbering  on  the  Norway  foam.” 

He  quite  ignored  the  excited  spectators,  who  at  once 
brought  their  cameras  and  field-glasses  to  bear  on  him, 
and  leisurely  continued  his  course,  while  his  “spoutings,” 
which  were  of  such  violence  as  to  be  distinctly  audible  from 
where  we  stood,  were  vivid  reminders  of  the  vigorous 
geyser  displays  of  New  Zealand  or  of  the  Yellowstone  Park. 

“Perfectly  grand!  Simply  stupendous!”  ejaculated  the 
Boston  girl,  who  was  visibly  excited  by  the  novel  spectacle. 
“Yes,”  chorused  her  Peruvian  friends,  “ maravilloso!  Es- 
tupendo!” 

Shortly  after  these  monsters  of  the  deep  had  passed 
from  our  view  we  were  favored  with  another  exhibition 
of  a different  character,  one  that  is  never  visible  in  all  its 

125 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


splendor  except  in  the  regions  of  the  equator.  Scarcely 
had  the  brief,  tropical  twilight  terminated  its  existence  when 
there  shot  up  from  the  ocean  a beautiful  semi-elliptical 
figure  that  the  Boston  maiden  told  her  companions  was  the 
Milky  Way.  They  were  of  the  same  opinion.  But  it  was 
not  the  Milky  Way  and  it  did  not  resemble  it  either  in 
form  or  color  or  position  in  the  firmament.  The  Italian 
engineer,  who  was  present,  suggested  that  it  might  be  one 
of  the  great  nebulae  of  the  southern  hemisphere.  But  his 
statement  was  wider  from  the  truth  than  that  of  the  fair 
Bostonian.  Being  in  doubt  about  the  matter  the  question 
was  referred  to  the  professor,  who  had,  by  consent,  been 
accepted  as  the  arbiter  of  all  disputes.  He,  too,  was  as 
much  interested  in  this  splendid  phenomenon  as  any  one 
aboard. 

When  interrogated  as  to  the  nature  of  the  apparition, 
he  replied  without  hesitation:  “It  is  the  zodiacal  light, 

but  to-night  it  is  of  unusual  magnitude  and  brilliancy.” 

And  so  it  was.  Rising  from  the  western  horizon,  where 
the  sun  had  dropped  below  the  ocean’s  edge,  it  rose  majes- 
tically on  both  sides  of  the  ecliptic  until  it  reached  the 
zenith.  In  the  center  was  an  effulgent  cone  surrounded 
by  two  other  cones  of  gradually  decreasing  brightness. 
The  middle  portion  was  much  brighter  than  is  the  galaxy 
in  our  northern  latitudes, — bright  enough,  indeed,  to  eclipse 
the  stars  of  the  lower  magnitudes.  And  unlike  the  cold, 
white  color  of  the  galaxy,  the  zodiacal  light,  as  we  then 
saw  it,  was  characterized  by  a warm,  orange-red  glow, 
that  resembled  somewhat  the  delicate  crimson  tints  of  the 
aurora  borealis.  Presently,  to  the  east  of  it,  we  saw  the 
rare,  mysterious  gegenschein,  or  counter-glow,  that  seemed 
to  be  a faint  reflex  of  the  zodiacal  light  itself.  Rising  to- 
wards the  zenith  the  two  luminous  bodies  seemed  to  be 
united  by  a narrow  nebulous  band  of  light. 

I had  frequently  admired  the  zodiacal  light  during  clear 
moonless  nights,  while  traveling  in  the  Andean  highlands, 
but  I had  never  witnessed  a display  comparable  in  extent 

126 


WONDERS  OF  SEA  AND  MOUNTAIN 


and  gorgeousness  with,  that  which  delighted  our  astonished 
gaze  during  that  memorable  hour  on  the  South  Pacific.  It 
forcibly  reminded  me  of  Donati’s  wonderful  comet  which, 
a half  century  before,  had  so  fascinated  my  youthful  mind, 
that  I was  wont  to  contemplate  it  for  hours  with  ever- 
increasing  interest  and  delight.  One  may  occasionally  see 
the  zodiacal  light  in  our  northern  climes,  after  twilight  in 
winter  and  spring,  and  before  dawn  in  summer  and  au- 
tumn, but  one  is  never  favored  by  such  a magnificent  dis- 
play of  light  and  color  as  greets  the  fortunate  traveler 
under  the  serene  heavens  of  equinoctial  zones. 

“What  a pity  our  Harvard  astronomers  cannot  behold 
such  a glorious  spectacle!”  exclaimed  the  patriotic  Boston 
girl.  “It  is  grandiose,  magnificent” — “Yes,”  echoed  the 
Peruvian  senoritas,  “ grandioso,  magnifico.” 

After  stopping  at  various  ports  along  the  coast  to  take 
on  freight — chiefly  cattle,  sugar  and  rice — and  passengers, 
we  finally  arrived  at  Callao,  the  port  of  Lima,  five  days 
after  leaving  Guayaquil.  I disembarked  here,  as  I wished 
to  spend  a few  days  in  Lima  before  continuing  my  journey 
southwards,  my  purpose  being  to  visit  Bolivia  and  southern 
Peru  before  devoting  attention  to  Lima  and  the  central 
and  eastern  parts  of  the  republic. 

But,  although  my  first  visit  to  the  City  of  the  Kings  was 
of  brief  duration,  it  was  long  enough  to  permit  me  to  take 
a trip  over  the  famous  Oroya  railroad — the  most  remarka- 
ble piece  of  railway  engineering  in  the  world.  Its  con- 
struction is  due  chiefly  to  the  initiation  and  tireless  energy 
of  that  remarkable  American  railway  builder,  Henry 
Meiggs,  who  seemed  to  possess  the  astuteness  of  a Jay 
Gould,  the  foresight  and  breadth  of  view  of  a James  J. 
Hill,  and  the  munificence  of  a Monte  Christo.  It  is  de- 
cidedly one  of  the  most  interesting  achievements  of  Peru, 
and  one  of  the  first  things  that  the  visitor  to  Lima  makes 
an  effort  to  see. 

Thanks  to  the  courtesy  of  the  manager  of  the  Peruvian 
Corporation,  which  controls  most  of  the  railroads  of  the 

127 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


republic,  we — a party  of  four  Americans — were  able  to 
make  the  trip  over  the  road  in  a special  train.  We  were 
thus  able  to  inspect  at  our  leisure  the  chief  points  of 
interest  along  the  road,  and  to  enjoy  the  unrivaled  scenery 
in  a way  that  would  otherwise  have  been  impossible. 

One  of  the  members  of  the  party  was  a prominent  official 
of  Yale  University,  who  has  since  been  appointed  to  a 
responsible  position  under  the  federal  government  in 
Washington.  There  was  also  a young  married  couple  from 
Philadelphia,  who  were  going  to  take  up  their  residence  in 
a small  town  in  the  Cordillera,  where  there  was  a large 
smelter,  in  which  the  young  husband,  who  was  an  electric 
and  mining  engineer,  was  to  be  superintendent.  He  had 
been  a noted  football  player  when  at  college,  while  the 
young  bride  had  won  high  honors  at  Bryn  Mawr,  in  lan- 
guage and  literature.  She  was  a typical  American  girl, 
alert,  self-reliant,  courageous  and  cultured — fully  equipped 
for  any  position  to  which  she  might  be  called. 

Our  train  left  Lima  shortly  after  six  o ’clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  we  were  soon  in  the  midst  of  the  sugar  and  cotton 
plantations  of  the  Rimac  valley,  along  which  the  road  is 
built  on  its  way  up  the  steep  slope  of  the  mountain  barrier 
which  separates  the  littoral  from  the  lofty  plateau  in  the 
region  of  the  clouds.  While  in  the  lowlands  a heavy  miz- 
zle— the  garua  of  Peru — precluded  a view  of  the  towering 
barrier  before  us ; but,  no  sooner  had  we  attained  a certain 
elevation  on  the  foothills,  when  we  suddenly  emerged  from 
impenetrable  mist  into  brightest  sunshine.  Above  us  was 
the  lofty  Cordillera  standing  out  in  bold  relief  under  the 
full  effulgence  of  the  morning  sun,  while  below  us,  the 
garua,  which  resembled  an  undulating  sea,  concealed  from 
our  view  the  verdant  plantations  through  which  we  had 
just  passed.  The  garua,  which  covers  the  coast  land  like 
a mantle — rarely  rises  higher  than  twelve  hundred  feet, 
while  its  upper  surface  is  usually  several  hundred  feet 
below  this  altitude.  For  this  reason  it  is  seen  only  along 
the  sea  coast.  Where  it  prevails,  there  is  a slight  drizzle 

128 


Mountain  Town  on  Oroya  Railroad,  showing  Andenes. 


WONDERS  OF  SEA  AND  MOUNTAIN 

during  the  winter  season,  but  there  is  rarely  or  never 
rain. 

“The  boundary  line  between  the  rain  and  the  mist,” 
says  Tschudi,  “may  be  defined  with  mathematical  pre- 
cision. I know  two  plantations,  the  one  six  leagues  from 
Lima,  the  other  in  the  neighborhood  of  Huacho ; one  half 
of  these  lands  is  watered  by  the  garuas,  the  other  half  by 
rain,  and  the  boundary  line  is  marked  by  a wall.”  1 

From  what  has  been  said  of  the  influence  of  the  Hum- 
boldt current  on  the  climate  of  the  Peruvian  coast,  the 
explanation  of  this  extraordinary  phenomenon  is  apparent. 
When  during  the  winter  months — from  May  to  October — 
the  temperature  of  the  earth  becomes  slightly  lower  than 
that  of  the  superincumbent  atmosphere,  we  have  the  slow- 
forming  garua  which  spreads  over  the  land  for  weeks  at 
a time.  When,  on  the  contrary,  the  temperature  of  the 
atmosphere  is  considerably  below  the  point  of  precipita- 
tion, which  always  obtains  in  the  higher  latitudes,  there  is 
rain. 

The  scenery  along  our  route  was  much  like  that  of  the 
canons  and  mountain  passes  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  ex- 
cept that  there  was  almost  a total  absence  of  vegetation, 
save  on  the  narrow  strip  of  land  bordering  the  Rimac,  and 
in  the  carefully  cultivated  andenes — little  terraced  plots  of 
ground — which  are  perched  high  up  on  the  precipitous 
slopes  of  the  mountains.  One  never  tires  admiring  the 
patience  and  industry  of  the  Indians  who  climb  to  these 
dizzy  heights  to  till,  at  the  cost  of  enormous  labor,  tiny 
patches  that  can  yield  but  little  and  which  require  constant 
attention  to  be  cultivable  at  all.  Seen  from  a distance, 
these  terraces  resemble  somewhat  the  vineyards  along  the 
banks  of  the  Rhine,  or  on  the  mountain  flanks  of  Italy;  but 
they  seem  so  inaccessible  that  one  wonders  that  any  one 
ever  attempts  to  bring  them  under  cultivation.  The  labor 
involved  in  building  the  retaining  walls  and  in  keeping 
them  in  repair  is  stupendous,  and  no  one  would  undertake 

i Travels  in  Peru,  p.  173,  New  York,  1854. 

129 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


it  except  the  laborious,  persistent  descendants  of  the 
Incas. 

From  the  time  the  train  leaves  the  coast  land  until  it 
reaches  Galera  tunnel,  which  pierces  the  crest  of  the  Andes, 
there  is  a continual  climb,  and  the  grade  is  very  heavy — 
frequently  above  four  per  cent.1  From  Callao  to  Galera  is 
but  one  hundred  and  two  miles,  but  during  that  distance 
the  train  rises  skyward  nearly  three  miles.  There  are  in 
this  stretch  of  road  thirteen  switch-backs  and  fifty-seven 
tunnels — through  the  solid  rock  and  through  jutting  preci- 
pices so  high  above  the  raging  torrent  as  to  seem  accessible 
only  by  the  daring  condor. 

The  cost  of  the  first  eighty-six  miles  is  said  to  have  been 
$300,000  a mile,  making  it  the  most  expensive  road  for  its 
length  ever  constructed.  I am  familiar  with  all  the  en- 
gineering feats  exhibited  by  the  railroads  of  the  United 
States  and  Europe,  but  I know  of  nothing  that  is  compara- 
ble with  the  stupendous  achievements  that  constantly 
startle  the  traveler  as  the  train  winds  its  way  over  the 
swinging  bridges  that  span  the  awful  chasms  which  are 
met  at  every  turn  of  the  Oroya  railroad. 

We  stopped  on  one  of  these  aerial  bridges  to  take  some 
photographs  and  to  view  at  leisure  the  sublime  scenes 
above  and  around  us.  The  place  was  aptly  named  Infer- 
nillo — Little  Hell. 

“How  such  a view  as  this,”  exclaimed  the  bride,  “would 
have  appealed  to  the  poetic  soul  of  Dante ! Could  he  have 
beheld  such  an  abysmal  gorge  as  this  we  should  have  an 
added  terror  in  his  awful  Inferno.” 

I then  discovered,  to  my  delight,  that  the  bride  was  a 
great  admirer  of  the  immortal  Florentine;  that  she  had 
made  a special  study  of  the  Divina  Comedia,  while  at 
college,  and  that  she  still  retained  all  her  first  love  for  this 

i A hand  car  started  at  Ticlio,  the  station  at  the  western  entrance  of  the 
tunnel,  will  run  unaided  to  Callao,  and,  as  a matter  of  fact,  such  a car, 
equipped  with  safety-brakes,  and  carrying  an  inspector  on  the  lookout  for 
fallen  rocks  and  other  dangers,  precedes  each  passenger  train  on  its  way 
from  Galera  to  the  Pacific. 


130 


WONDERS  OF  SEA  AND  MOUNTAIN 

matchless  poem.  With  such  a bond  of  union  between  us, 
we  became  friends  from  that  hour. 

At  the  town  which  was  to  be  her  future  home — a place 
more  than  two  miles  above  the  sea — we  were  joined  by  two 
other  Americans — a gentleman  and  his  wife,  both  of  whom 
had  lived  for  some  time  in  Peru.  Continuing  our  way  up- 
wards toward  the  summit,  we  finally  reached  the  celebrated 
Galera  tunnel,  which  is  less  than  two  hundred  feet  below 
the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc,  the  highest  peak  of  the  Alps.1 

While  contemplating  our  engine  in  these  “high  Peruvian 
solitudes  among,”  whose  progress  was  always  onward  and 
upwards,  we  recalled  the  beautiful  poem  of  the  Peruvian 
poet  Salavery  on  La  Locomotara — the  locomotive — which 
begins  as  follows: 

“Ni  el  condor  de  los,  Andes,  que  alza  el  vuelo 
Desde  su  nido  hasta  la  azul  region, 

Y rasgando  la  tunica  del  cielo 
Hiende  las  nubes  que  alumina  el  sol; 


Ni  el  aeronauta  audaz  . . . 

Aventajan  al  monstruo  en  la  carrera 
Con  sus  alas  de  fuego  y de  vapor.”  2 

As  we  emerged  from  the  eastern  end  of  the  tunnel  we 
were  greeted  by  a vista  that  was  truly  magnificent — such 

1 Galera  tunnel,  15,605  feet  above  sea-level,  was  for  a long  time  the  highest 
point  in  the  world  attained  by  any  railroad.  This  altitude,  however,  has 
recently  been  surpassed  by  that  reached  by  the  Morocoeha  branch,  which 
leaves  the  main  line  at  the  western  entrance  to  the  tunnel  and  rises  to  a 
height  of  15,865  feet,  nearly  a third  of  a mile  higher  than  the  summit  of 
Pike’s  Peak.  It  is  also  lower  than  Collahuasi,  on  the  narrow  gauge  rail- 
way between  Antofagasta  in  Chile  and  La  Paz  in  Bolivia.  On  this  line  the 
locomotive  rises  to  a height  but  fifty-six  feet  lower  than  the  most  elevated 
point  on  the  Peruvian  road. 

2 “Neither  the  condor  of  the  Andes  that  towers  above  his  aerie  to  the  blue 
empyrean,  and,  rending  the  sky’s  vesture,  opens  a passage  through  the  sunlit 
clouds  . . . nor  the  bold  aeronaut  . . . surpasses  this  monster  in  his 
flight  on  the  wings  of  fire  and  steam.” 

131 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


a vista  as  is  found  only  in  the  highest  mountains  where 
the  earth  seems  to  touch  the  sky.  Before  us,  within  the 
extended  range  of  vision  that  was  possible  from  our  lofty 
view-point,  were  undulating  plateaus  intersected  by  count- 
less mountain  streams  starting  on  their  way  to  the  mighty 
Amazon,  and  nearly  half  a mile  above  us  towered  the  sum- 
mit of  Mount  Meiggs  mantled  with  eternal  snow.  Several 
of  us  were  specially  interested  in  observing  the  incipient 
stage  of  a tiny  streamlet  that  was  just  starting  on  its  long 
journey  to  the  far-off  Atlantic.  Near  by  another  stream- 
let had  its  birth,  but  its  destination  was  the  nearer  Pacific. 

There  were,  however,  two  of  our  party  who  were  unable 
to  enjoy  the  splendid  views  that  so  captivated  the  rest  of 
us.  Long  before  reaching  the  summit  they  had  succumbed 
to  soroche — mountain  sickness — that  mysterious  disorder 
peculiar  to  high  altitudes,  and  which,  in  spite  of  all  the 
investigations  so  far  made,  seems  to  be  as  little  understood 
as  sea-sickness.  And  strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  first  one 
to  be  affected  by  the  malady  was  the  athlete  of  the  party — 
the  ex-football  player.  He  suffered  ever-increasing  pain 
until  finally  he  was  completely  prostrated.  While  the 
others  were  enjoying  the  ever-changing  panorama  visible 
from  our  car,  he  was  struggling  with  vertigo  and  nausea, 
feverishness,  and  feeling  as  if  the  top  of  his  head  were 
about  to  blow  off.  Fortunately,  he  did  not  experience  the 
other  effects — bleeding  at  the  nostrils,  ears,  eyes  and 
mouth,  weakness  of  sight  and  hearing  and  the  fainting  fits 
from  which  many  persons  suffer  when  in  great  altitudes. 

Mai  de  montagne  usually  makes  itself  felt  at  an  altitude 
of  between  fifteen  and  sixteen  thousand  feet  above  the  sea. 
Sometimes  it  appears  as  a headache,  which  gradually  in- 
creases in  intensity,  or  as  an  indescribable  feeling  of 
malaise  pervading  the  greater  part  of  the  body.  At  other 
times  it  attacks  one  suddenly  and  is  accompanied  with 
depression  and  weakness,  nausea,  vomiting  and  hemor- 
rhage. 

Some  people  are  affected  at  much  lower  altitudes  than 

132 


WONDERS  OF  SEA  AND  MOUNTAIN 


that  just  mentioned,  while  others  are  immune  until  much 
higher  elevations  are  attained.  Fitzgerald,  the  experienced 
Alpine  traveler,  was  forced  to  relinquish  his  attempt  to 
reach  the  summit  of  Aconcagua,  one  of  the  highest — if 
not  the  highest — peaks  of  the  Andes  when  within  only  a 
few  hundred  yards  from  the  coveted  goal.  “I  tried,”  he 
informs  us,  “more  than  once  to  go  on,  but  I was  able  to 
advance  only  two  or  three  steps  at  a time  and  then  I had 
to  stop,  panting  for  breath,  my  struggles  alternating  with 
violent  fits  of  nausea.  At  times  I would  fall  down,  and 
each  time  had  greater  difficulty  in  rising;  black  specks 
swam  across  my  sight;  I was  like  one  walking  in  a dream, 
so  dizzy  and  sick  that  the  whole  mountain  seemed  to  be 
whirling  round  with  me.”  1 

Padre  Acosta,  who  is  one  of  the  earliest  Spanish  chron- 
iclers to  describe  the  effects  of  soroche,  gives  a very 
graphic  description  of  his  experience  with  it  in  the  moun- 
tains of  Peru.  “There,”  he  tells  us,  “the  ayre  and  the 
wind  that  rains  make  men  dazie,  not  lesse,  but  more  then 
at  sea.  ...  I was  suddenly  surprised  with  so  mortall 
and  strange  a pang  that  I was  ready  to  fall  from  my  beast 
to  the  ground  and  with  such  pangs  of  straining  and  casting 
as  I thought  to  cast  up  my  soul  too. 

“And  no  doubt,”  he  continued,  “but  the  winde  is  the 
cause  of  this  intemperature  and  strange  alteration,  or  the 
aire  that  raignes  there  ...  I,  therefore,  perswade  my 
selfe  that  the  element  of  the  aire  is  there  so  subtile  and 
delicate,  as  it  is  not  proportionable  with  the  breathing  of 
man,  which  requires  a more  gross  and  temperate  aire,  and 
I beleeve  it  is  the  cause  that  doth  so  much  alter  the 
stomacke  and  trouble  all  the  disposition.”  2 

Explanations  similar  to  this  were  accepted  until  the 
memorable  experiments  of  Paul  Bert,  recorded  in  his  bulky 
tome,  La  Pression  Barometrique,  published  in  1878.  In  this 
work  Mr.  Bert  contends  that  mal  de  montagne  is  due  to  an 

i The  Highest  Andes,  p.  82,  London,  1899. 

* Op.  cit.,  Lib.  Ill,  Chap.  IX. 


133 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


insufficient  supply  of  oxygen,  and  that  the  malady  can  be 
prevented  by  inspiring  this  life-giving  gas  in  sufficient 
quantity. 

Mr.  Whymper,  however,  joins  issue  with  Mr.  Bert,  and 
maintains  that  mountain  sickness  is  due  to  diminished 
atmospheric  pressure,  and  the  expansion  of  air  or  gas 
within  the  body  which  causes  it  to  press  upon  the  internal 
organs.1  According  to  other  investigators  soroche  is  of 
chemico-nervous  origin,  and  they  point  in  support  of  their 
theory  to  the  fact  that  instantaneous  relief  is  afforded  to 
one  suffering  from  the  malady  by  administering  a kind  of 
cocoa  tea  such  as  is  prepared  and  used  by  the  Indians  in  the 
Andean  highlands. 

On  our  return  to  Lima  we  left  the  bride  and  groom  at 
their  mountain  home — nearly  twelve  thousand  feet  above 
the  Pacific.  The  bride  had  enjoyed  every  moment  of  her 
visit  to  cloudland,  for  she  did  not  in  the  slightest  degree 
experience  any  of  the  distressing  effects  of  that  terrible 
soroche  that  so  thoroughly  prostrated  her  athletic  husband. 
He,  poor  fellow,  was  so  completely  incapacitated  that  he 
had  to  be  put  to  bed  as  soon  as  he  left  the  train. 

As  for  my  Yale  companion  and  myself,  we  felt  no  incon- 
venience whatever  from  the  change  of  pressure,  aside  from 
the  increased  difficulty  of  breathing,  due  to  the  rarity  of 
the  atmosphere.  Even  this  was  scarcely  perceptible,  ex- 
cept when  accentuated  by  physical  exertion  of  some  kind. 
And  I may  be  permitted  to  add  in  this  connection  that  I 
have  never  suffered  from  mountain  sickness,  even  when  I 
was  several  thousand  feet  higher  than  I ever  was  while 
crossing  the  lofty  crests  of  the  Cordilleras.  Some  con- 
stitutions— and  these  are  not  always  the  most  rugged, 
by  any  means — seem  to  resist  soroche  better  than  others, 
just  as  some  persons  escape  sea-sickness,  while  others,  who 
are  much  stronger  physically,  succumb  to  the  first  ocean 
swell. 

In  going  from  Callao  to  Mollendo,  our  last  objective 

i Op.  cit.,  Chap.  XIX. 


134 


WONDERS  OF  SEA  AND  MOUNTAIN 


point  on  the  rainless  coast,  I was  fortunate  enough  to  se- 
cure passage  on  one  of  the  steamers  of  the  Cosmos  Line, 
so  favorably  known  for  its  well-trained  corps  of  tidy,  at- 
tentive and  affable  officers  and  stewards, — men  who  are  not 
unlike  those  who  contribute  so  much  to  the  comfort  of  the 
passenger  on  the  best  of  the  trans-Atlantic  liners.  And 
then  there  were  no  bellowing  cattle  on  board,  as  on  many 
of  the  other  steamers  on  the  west  coast,  to  make  night 
hideous  and  sleep  impossible.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  if 
the  Cosmos  Line,  as  is  to  be  hoped  it  will,  once  decides  to 
reach  out  for  the  passenger  business  of  the  south  Pacific 
coast,  it  will  at  once  secure  a fair  share  of  the  patronage  of 
the  traveling  public.1 

Although  we  stopped  at  several  ports  between  Callao  and 
Mollendo,  we  saw  little  to  arrest  our  attention  outside  of 
the  famous  Chincha  Islands,  about  one  hundred  miles  south 
of  Callao.  These  are  small,  barren  rocks,  but  it  may  well 
be  doubted  whether  any  equal  area  of  the  earth’s  surface 
has  yielded  a greater  amount  of  treasure.  They,  from  time 
immemorial,  have  been  the  favorite  home  of  the  so-called 
guano  2 birds — pelicans,  sea  gulls,  marine  crows  and  cor- 
morants— which  have  made  those  immense  deposits,  almost 
two  hundred  feet  deep  in  places,  that,  for  more  than  half  a 
century  have  supplied  the  world  with  its  richest  and  most 
prized  fertilizer.  It  is  estimated  that  the  total  value  of 
the  manure  taken  from  these  small  islands  up  to  date  has 
not  been  less  than  one  billion  dollars.  The  amount  of 
guano  taken  from  them  between  1853  and  1872  amounted 
to  no  less  than  eight  million  tons,  which  fetched  from  forty 
to  seventy  dollars  a ton. 

But  this  is  only  one  of  several  groups  of  guano  islands 

1 From  present  indications,  the  Peruvian  Steamship  Company,  recently 
inaugurated,  promises  to  be  the  most  popular  line  on  the  west  coast  of 
South  America.  It  has  fast  and  commodious  turbine  steamers  that  are 
capable  of  making  the  trip  between  Callao  and  Panama  in  about  half  the 
time  required  by  the  vessels  of  its  competitors. 

2 From  huanu,  the  Quichua  word  for  manure.  Llama,  pampa,  condor,  coca, 
and  quina  are  other  Quichua  words  introduced  into  English. 

135 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

found  all  along  this  wonderful  rainless  coast  from  Los 
Lobos  to  Tarapaca.  These,  too,  have  contributed  to  the 
markets  of  the  world  their  millions  of  tons  of  fertilizer, 
and  still  the  deposits  are  not  exhausted.  More  than  this. 
New  deposits  are  continually  being  made  by  the  millions 
of  birds  that  frequent  these  islands.  To  enable  the  reader 
to  form  some  idea  of  the  countless  myriads  of  birds  that 
congregate  on  these  rocky  islets  for  purposes  of  roosting 
at  night  or  rearing  their  young,  it  suffices  to  state  that  no 
less  than  five  thousand  tons  of  guano  are  annually  de- 
posited on  a single  one  of  the  Chinchas  Islands,  and  that 
on  an  area  not  exceeding  fifteen  acres  in  extent.  So  im- 
mense are  the  flocks  of  birds  that  fish  in  their  neighbor- 
hood that  the  sky  is  frequently  darkened  by  them,  and  one 
would  imagine  that  the  whole  ocean  would  not  suffice  to 
supply  them  with  means  of  subsistence.  But  so  prolific  are 
its  waters  in  fish  of  all  kinds  that  the  guano  birds  find  all 
the  food  required,  without  going  any  great  distance  from 
their  favorite  haunts.  And  this,  notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  these  icthyophagous  gormands  have  been  drawing  sus- 
tenance from  these  waters  for  hundreds,  probably  thou- 
sands of  years. 

Although  guano  was  extensively  used  as  a fertilizer  dur- 
ing the  time  of  the  Incas,  it  was  practically  lost  sight  of 
after  the  conquest  until  the  time  of  Humboldt.  Its  true 
value,  however,  was  not  recognized  until  some  decades 
later,  when  Justus  von  Liebig,  the  father  of  agricultural 
chemistry,  definitely  determined  its  importance  as  a fer- 
tilizer, and  at  the  same  time  demonstrated  that  it  was  one 
of  the  greatest  assets  of  the  republic  of  Peru.  Had  the 
Peruvian  government  adopted  wiser  methods  in  exploiting 
these  valuable  deposits,  and  enacted  suitable  laws  for  their 
conservation,  and  then  employed  the  immense  wealth  ac- 
cruing from  the  sale  of  guano,  in  developing  and  building 
up  a merchant  marine  and  navy,  she  would  to-day  be,  in 
proportion  to  her  population,  second  to  none  of  the  repub- 
lics of  South  America.  It  is  only  recently  that  she  has 

136 


WONDERS  OF  SEA  AND  MOUNTAIN 


enacted  laws  looking  towards  the  preservation  of  her 
guano  deposits.  In  doing  this  she  has  done  little  more 
than  revive  the  old  Inca  regulations  which  enforced  rota- 
tion in  digging  and  protected  the  birds  by  closed  seasons. 

“In  the  times  of  the  Kings  Incas,”  writes  Garcilaso 
de  la  Vega,  “such  care  was  taken  to  preserve  these  birds, 
that  it  was  unlawful  for  any  one  to  land  on  the  islands 
during  the  breeding  season  under  pain  of  death,  that  the 
birds  might  not  be  disturbed  or  driven  from  their  nests. 
Nor  was  it  lawful  to  kill  the  birds  at  any  time  either  on 
the  islands  or  elsewhere  under  pain  of  death.”  1 

This  is  one  instance  in  which  the  Peruvians  of  to-day 
can  learn  from  their  Inca  predecessors  of  four  centuries 
ago. 

i Comentarios  Reales,  Lib.  V,  Cap.  Ill,  Madrid,  1725.  So  great,  accord- 
ing to  Garcilaso,  were  the  heaps  of  manure  that,  from  a distance  they  seemed 
like  the  peaks  of  a snowy  mountain — puntas  de  alguna  Sierra  Nevada. 


137 


CHAPTER  VIII 


LA  VILLA  HERMOSA 

We  dropped  anchor  in  the  harbor,  or  rather  in  the  road- 
stead of  Mollendo,  shortly  after  midnight.  As  the  sea  was 
very  rough — it.  is  nearly  always  rough  here — no  attempt 
was  made  to  land  the  passengers  until  the  following  morn- 
ing. While  I was  dressing  in  my  cabin,  and  wondering 
how  I could  reach  the  landing-place,  which  was  about  a 
mile  distant,  someone  knocked  at  my  door.  This  somewhat 
surprised  me,  as  my  steward  never  disturbed  me  in  the 
morning  until  I called  for  him.  On  opening  the  door  I 
was  saluted  by  a stranger  who  handed  me  a telegram. 
This  increased  my  surprise.  I was  not  expecting  a mes- 
sage from  anyone  and  could  not  imagine  whence  it  came. 
Imagine  my  astonishment  and  pleasure  when  I learned  its 
contents.  It  was  from  the  president  of  the  chamber  of 
deputies  in  Lima,  instructing  the  collector  of  the  port  at 
Mollendo  to  show  me  special  attention,  and  to  render  my 
stay  there  as  pleasant  as  possible.  “La  chalupa,”  said  this 
official,  “esta  esperando  a Vd  quando  Vd  quiera  salir” — 
“a  boat  is  awaiting  you  when  you  are  ready  to  go  ashore.” 

“This,”  I exclaimed,  “is  truly  Peruvian  hospitality!” 
It  should  not  have  surprised  me,  because  I had  received 
so  many  gratifying  evidences  of  it  before;  but  under  the 
circumstances,  when  least  expected,  it  touched  me  deeply. 
It  was,  however,  but  the  beginning  of  many  similar  acts 
of  thoughtful  kindness,  in  little  and  great  things,  which 
contributed  so  much  towards  making  my  travels  in  Peru 
so  pleasant  and  profitable. 

I was  soon  in  the  gayly  decked  boat  of  the  C omandante 
del  Resguardo  de  la  Aduana — which  was  manned  by  a half 

138 


LA  VILLA  HERMOSA 


dozen  uniformed  oarsmen — and  in  a short  time  I found 
myself  the  guest  of  the  Mollendo  Club,  in  the  midst  of  a 
most  charming  body  of  men,  several  of  whom  were  Ameri- 
cans connected  with  various  business  houses  of  this  impor- 
tant shipping  point. 

After  a half  day  spent  in  Mollendo,  during  which  I was 
given  a delightful  breakfast  at  the  club,  I was  ready  to 
start  for  Arequipa.  Arrived  at  the  depot  of  the  Southern 
Railway  of  Peru,  I met  with  another  surprise.  I was  es- 
corted into  a richly-upholstered  Pullman  car,  and  told  that 
I was  to  consider  myself  the  guest  of  the  Ferro-Car riles 
del  Sur  del  Peru.  The  agent  then  informed  me  that  he 
had  received  instructions  from  headquarters  to  extend  to 
me  all  the  courtesies  of  the  road,  and  the  delicate  manner 
in  which  he  executed  his  commission  gave  an  added  charm 
to  all  he  said  and  did.  I began  then  to  realize,  more  than 
ever  before,  that  I was  among  a people  whose  hospitality 
has  been  proverbial  from  time  immemorial  and  that,  while 
in  their  midst,  I could  truly  feel  at  home. 

After  leaving  Mollendo  we  went  far  enough  towards  the 
southeast  to  get  a view  of  the  fertile  and  verdant  valley 
of  the  Rio  Tambo,  when  the  train,  veering  towards  the 
north,  started  across  the  arid  pampa  of  Islay.  We  could 
then  see  how  appropriately  the  long,  rainless  coast,  of 
which  an  account  has  been  given  in  the  preceding  chapter, 
has  been  called  the  Sahara  of  Peru.  Outside  of  the  few 
narrow  strips  of  vegetation  along  the  valleys,  and  the  oc- 
casional haciendas  that  have  been  rendered  fruitful  by  irri- 
gation, the  pampa  of  Islay  is  a picture  of  desolation  made 
desolate.  This  is  particularly  the  case  when  one  crosses 
the  desert  plain  under  the  scorching,  vibrating  heat-waves 
of  the  noonday  sun  of  the  hot  season,  and  when  a stiff 
breeze  from  the  ocean  picks  up  and  carries  before  it  clouds 
of  sand  and  volcanic  dust,  which  are  sufficient  to  suffocate 
both  man  and  beast,  unless  they  can  immediately  find  suit- 
able shelter.  The  impalpable  dust,  with  which  the  lurid 
sand  clouds  are  surcharged,  penetrate  everywhere.  It  in- 

139 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


flames  tlie  eyes  and  parches  the  tongue  and  throat  so  as 
to  inflict  indescribable  torture. 

No  wonder  then  that  so  many  tragedies  have  been  writ- 
ten in  so  many  stretches  of  this  rainless  coast,  and  that 
these  treacherous  wastes  are  strewn  with  the  bleaching 
bones  of  countless  unfortunates ! 1 Considering  the  for- 
bidding character  of  this  burning,  suffocating  plain,  it  is 
not  surprising  that  the  Indian  attributes  the  curiously- 
shaped  sand  formations  which  are  everywhere  visible  to 
the  caprice  of  passing  demons.  Occasionally,  when  the 
heat  is  great,  one  will  hear  musical  notes  proceeding  from 
these  strangely-fashioned  hillocks  like  those  issuing  from 
the  musical  sands  of  Hawaii  and  Mount  Sinai.  The  sound 
is  due  to  the  vibrating  molecules  of  the  heated  sand,  but 
the  natives,  ignorant  of  its  true  origin,  attribute  it  to  boil- 
ing water  in  the  interior  of  these  formations  and  hence 
their  name  “water  volcanoes,”  for  these  uncanny,  sonorous 
mounds. 

Among  these  formations  the  traveler’s  attention  is  sure 
to  be  arrested  by  what  are  known  in  the  country  as 
medanos.  These  are  shifting  sand  dunes  in  the  form  of  a 
crescent,  as  sharp  and  perfect  in  outline  as  the  moon  in 
its  first  quarter. 

They  are  of  all  sizes,  from  a few  feet  to  twenty  or  more 
feet  in  height.  At  one  time  one  will  see  only  a few  of 
them,  at  others  the  plain  is  covered  with  them — giving  the 
desert  the  appearance  of  an  ocean  covered  with  fossilized 
waves.  Under  the  action  of  violent  winds  the  medanos 

i While  traveling  in  the  Peruvian  desert  I often  wondered  why  camels 
were  not  used  in  it.  1 have  since  read  in  the  Apuntes  Historicos,  pp.  96,  97, 
of  Gen.  Mendiburu,  that  these  “ships  of  the  desert”  were  introduced  into  Lima 
and  lea  as  early  as  1552.  They  became  readily  acclimated,  but,  their  owners 
not  knowing  how  to  take  care  of  them,  the  experiment  did  not  prove  success- 
ful. Most  of  the  animals  escaped  to  the  mountains  where  the  negroes  killed 
them  for  food.  The  last  two  camels  died  in  1575.  Camels  were  also  intro- 
duced into  Venezuela,  and  Humboldt  suggested  their  use  for  transporting 
freight  across  the  Isthmus  of  Panama.  “L’introduction  des  chameaus  serolt 
le  moyen  le  plus  sur  de  diminuer  les  frais  de  transport.”  Op.  cit.,  Vol.  I, 
p.  251. 


140 


LA  VILLA  HERMOSA 


move  rapidly  over  the  plains  with  an  almost  irresistible 
momentum.  In  the  course  of  their  extraordinary  migra- 
tions they  sometimes  encounter  the  railroad,  and  then  the 
employes  have  a difficult  task  before  them  to  keep  the  track 
sufficiently  clear  to  permit  the  passage  of  trains. 

But,  although  this  costal  belt  is  so  desolate,  the  dry,1 
ocherous  dust  and  sand  areas  can,  under  the  influence  of 
rain  or  irrigation,  be  made  to  bloom  in  a night.  From  a 
barren  desert  it  is  at  once  converted  into  a land  that  is  as 
productive  as  the  valley  of  the  Nile.  This  is  clearly  evi- 
denced in  the  rapidly-increasing  tracts  which  are  being 
reclaimed  by  irrigation.  While  the  amount  of  water  sup- 
plied by  the  rivers  is  not  nearly  adequate  to  irrigate  the 
extensive  desert  belt  between  the  Pacific  and  the  Cordillera, 
it  has  been  discovered  that  artesian  wells  can  be  made  effi- 
cient agents  in  the  work  of  reclamation  in  the  Sahara  of 
Peru  as  well  as  in  the  Sahara  of  northern  Africa,  and 
from  present  indications,  this  neglected  means  of  vegeta- 
tion is  hereafter  to  receive  much  more  attention  than  hith- 
erto. 

But  notwithstanding  the  aridity  and  desolation  of  the 
Peruvian  desert  it  is,  in  some  respects,  the  most  productive 
land  in  the  world.  And  the  remarkable  fact  is  that  its 
value  is  due  entirely  to  its  lack  of  rain  and  moisture. 

The  two  greatest  sources  of  revenue  for  Peru,  especially 
before  its  late  war  with  Chile,  when  it  was  robbed 2 of 

1 It  is  said  that  the  atmosphere  is  so  dry  in  this  arid  region  that  picture 

frames  are  made  of  salt.  A story  to  the  same  effect  is  told  of  a young 
girl  of  Huantajaya,  where  there  is  no  water,  who,  on  going  to  Tarapacd, 
and  seeing  a stream  there,  exclaimed:  “Oh,  what  heretics  these  Tara- 

paquenos  must  be,  to  let  so  much  blessed  water  run  to  waste!  Pray  save 
it,  save  it!” 

2 The  Congress  of  Venezuela  thus  expressed  the  general  opinion.  “Chile, 
by  invading  the  territory  of  Peru  and  Bolivia,  and  spreading  desolation 
and  death  over  them,  pretends  to  resuscitate  the  absurd  right  of  conquest, 
and  by  committing  repeated  acts  of  cruelty  and  barbarity  on  brother  nations, 
she  appears  before  the  world  as  a sinister  apparition  of  the  most  retrograde 
ages  in  history.  We  solemnly  protest  against  the  iniquitous  and  scandalous 
usurpation  of  which  Peru  and  Bolivia  are  the  victims,  in  spite  of  their  hero- 
ism, and  we  beseech  the  God  of  nations  to  look  favorably  on  the  prompt 

141 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


some  of  its  richest  possessions,  were  its  guano  and  nitrate 
beds.1  Such  deposits,  however,  would  be  impossible  in  a 
rainy  climate,  for  all  their  valuable  salts  would  be  bleached 
out  as  rapidly  as  formed.  In  many  other  parts  of  the 
world  marine  birds  in  immense  numbers  frequent  certain 
islands  and  coast  lands  as  well  as  in  Peru,  but  the  guano 
produced  is  immediately  washed  away  by  the  heavy  rain- 
falls that  there  prevail.  What,  then,  appears  to  be  the 
greatest  drawback  to  the  Peruvian  littoral — its  perennial 
aridity — is  in  reality  the  essential  condition  of  its  most 
valued  sources  of  revenue.  If  the  Humboldt  current  could 
be  deflected  from  its  present  course,  so  as  to  permit  the 

restoration  of  lawful  sovereignty,  as  a security  for  peace  and  concord  among 
the  sons  of  America. 

i Early  in  the  last  century,  Bollaert  estimated  the  amount  of  sodium  ni- 
trate— called  in  Peru  salitre  or  caliche — in  the  province  of  Tarapacd — to  be 
sixty-three  million  tons  and  sufficient  at  the  then  rate  of  consumption  to  last 
one  thousand,  three  hundred  and  ninety-three  years.  Antiquarian,  Ethnological 
and  other  Researches  in  New  Granada,  Ecuador,  Peru  and  Chile,  p.  155, 
London,  1860.  This,  at  the  time,  seemed  to  be  an  enormous  amount,  but,  as 
subsequent  developments  have  proved,  it  was  only  a small  fraction  of  what 
is  now  known  to  exist. 

The  total  annual  production  in  Bollaert’s  time  of  this  valuable  commodity 
was  less  than  ten  thousand  tons.  In  1908  it  was  nearly  two  million  tons. 
Notwithstanding,  however,  all  that  has  been  exported  during  the  last  century, 
there  are  still  in  sight,  according  to  an  official  report  of  a board  of  en- 
gineers, who  have  investigated  the  matter,  “a  quantity  sufficient  at  the  pres- 
ent rate  of  exportation  to  supply  the  entire  world’s  consumption  for  one 
hundred  and  thirty  years.”  This  estimate  applies  to  the  two  provinces  of 
Tarapacfi  and  Antofagasta  alone.  How  much  more  may  yet  exist  in  undis- 
covered deposits  in  these  and  adjoining  districts  cannot  as  yet  be  estimated. 
There  is,  however,  reason  to  believe  that  it  is  very  great. 

The  value  of  the  sodium  nitrate  delivered  in  the  ports  of  Europe  and  the 
United  States  in  1908  was  more  than  eighty-five  million  dollars — sufficient 
evidence  that  this  section  of  the  South  American  Sahara  is  an  asset  that  any 
nation  might  envy. 

The  reader  will  be  interested  in  learning  that  the  most  probable  theory 
regarding  these  deposits,  whose  origin  has  long  been  so  fruitful  a subject 
of  discussion,  is  that  they  are  derived  from  organic  matter,  most  likely 
guano.  If  this  theory  should  be  verified,  it  will  afford  some  of  our  lovers  of 
curious  problems  an  opportunity  to  calculate  the  age  of  the  guano  and 
nitrate  deposits  of  the  rainless  coast  lands  of  Peru  and  Chile,  and  the  count- 
less trillions  of  birds  that  have  contributed  towards  the  formation  of  these 
immense  deposits. 


142 


LA  VILLA  HERMOSA 


same  abundant  precipitation  as  obtains  along  the  coast  of 
Ecuador  and  Colombia,  the  present  Sahara  of  Peru  would 
at  once  be  clothed  with  a mantle  of  richest  verdure,  but, 
at  the  same  time,  its  fabulous  wealth  in  guano  and  nitrate 
would  melt  away  never  to  return. 

Although  Arequipa  is  but  little  more  than  one  hundred 
miles  from  Mollendo,  it  required  nearly  six  hours  for  our 
train  to  make  this  distance.  The  grades  through  the  cut- 
tings in  diorite  and  porphyry  are  heavy,  and  the  curves 
around  mountain  spurs  are  sharp  and  numerous.  The 
railroad  connecting  the  two  places,  like  the  Oroya  railway, 
is  one  of  the  great  achievements  of  Henry  Meiggs,  and  its 
construction  is  another  evidence  of  his  superb  courage  and 
tireless  energy. 

Arequipa  has  long  been  famous  for  its  beauty  and  the 
mildness  and  salubrity  of  its  climate.  Its  altitude  above 
the  sea  is  about  the  same  as  that  of  the  City  of  Mexico. 
If  not  the  most  beautiful  place  in  South  America,  as  its 
admirers  claim,  it  is  certainly  the  most  restful.  It  is  such 
a place  as  one  should  like  to  retire  to  after  the  stress  and 
storms  of  a busy  career,  to  pass  one’s  days  in  quietude 
and  in  a congenial  environment.  The  people,  who  retain 
all  the  light-heartedness  and  cordiality  and  culture  of  old 
Spain,  are  worthy  denizens  of  their  charming  city,  and 
the  better  one  knows  them,  the  more  he  admires  and  loves 
them.  I can  truthfully  say  that  I never  found  people 
anywhere  whose  generous  hospitality  and  noble  qualities 
of  heart  and  mind  made  a deeper  impression  on  me. 

“Studious  of  men 
His  sociable  nature  ever  was,” 

are  words  applied  by  Homer  to  Ulysses.  Since  my  visit  to 
Peru  I have  never  thought  of  them  except  in  connection 

with  my  amiable,  whole-souled  host  in  Arequipa,  Sr.  T , 

who  is,  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  one  of  Nature’s  noble- 
men. 


143 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


So  delighted,  indeed,  was  I with  Arequipa  and  the  Are- 
quipenans  that  I was  quite  willing  to  indorse  the  follow- 
ing lines,  which  I heard  from  the  lips  of  a bright  young 
sehorita  from  one  of  the  convent  schools,  in  praise  of  her 
native  city. 


“Aquel  que  dichoso  logra 
Pisar  este  hermoso  suelo. 

0 se  vuelve  enamorado 
0 se  queda  prisionero.”  1 

For  one  who  has  visited  Arequipa,  it  is  easy  to  credit 
the  story  about  the  origin  of  its  name.  It  is  said  that 
many  of  the  soldiers  of  Maita  Capac,  on  their  return  from 
one  of  their  victorious  campaigns,  were  so  captivated  by 
the  beauty  of  the  country  which  surrounds  the  present 
city — la  villa  hermosa,2  the  city  beautiful — as  it  is  often 
called,  that  they  begged  the  Inca  to  permit  them  to  remain 
here  and  establish  a colony.  After  a moment’s  reflection, 
he  replied,  Ari,  quepai,  words  which  in  Quicliua  signify, 
Yes,  remain. 

Arequipa  has  long  been  famous  in  Peru  for  its  schools 
and  scholars,  for  soldiers  and  statesmen.  Its  population 
is  not  large — about  twenty-five  thousand — but  its  people 
have  been  extremely  active  and  successful  in  every  walk 
of  life.  It  counts  many  men  eminent  in  science  and  letters 
and  is  justly  proud  of  them. 

I had  a pleasant  reminder  one  evening,  that  I was  in  a 
center  of  literary  culture,  when  I listened  to  a serenade  at 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street  from  where  I was  stopping. 
The  words  sung  were  from  one  of  those  sentimental 
yaravies  of  Mariano  Melgar,  a native  of  Arequipa,  whose 
verses,  his  admirers  would  fain  have  us  believe,  deserve 
to  be  classed  with  the  melodies  of  Thomas  Moore.  The 
following  strophes,  addressed  to  a lady,  who  did  not  re- 

1 “He  who  has  the  good  fortune  to  tread  this  bewitching  soil  either  becomes 
enamored  of  it  or  remains  a prisoner.” 

2 So  called  by  its  founder,  Francisco  Pizarro. 

144 


LA  VILLA  HERMOSA 


ciprocate  the  poet’s  love,  are  a part  of  the  yaravi  which 
the  serenader  sang  to  the  accompaniment  of  his  guitar,  and 
are  at  the  same  time  a fair  indication  of  the  character  of 
Melgar’s  muse: 

“Yo  procure  olvidarte 

Y morir  bajo  el  yugo 

De  mi  desdicha; 

Pero  no  pienses  que  el  cielo 
Deje  de  hacerte  sentir 
Sus  justas  iras. 

“Muerto  yo,  tu  lloraras 
El  yerro  de  haber  perdido 
Una  alma  fma; 

Y aun  muerto,  sabra  vengarse 
Este  misero  vivente 

Que  hoy  tiranazas.  ’ ’ 1 

But  to  appreciate  the  tender,  melodious  character  of  the 
yaravi,  which  is  almost  always  in  a minor  key,  one  must 
hear  it  sung  as  the  Peruvians  sing  it,  and  particularly  as 
the  people  of  Arequipa  sing  it.  While  it  is  somewhat 
monotonous,  and  pervaded  by  a vein  of  sadness,  neverthe- 
less, when  the  words  sung  are  inspired  by  the  absence  or  the 
ingratitude  or  the  cruelty  of  the  object  loved,  and  when, 
especially,  it  is  the  singer  who  has  enkindled  love  in  the 
soul  of  the  listener,  then,  as  has  been  well  said  by  the 
distinguished  scholar,  Mateo  Paz  Soldan,  a son  of  Are- 
quipa, each  note  is  a poniard  that  transfixes  the  heart, 
“each  forte  excites  deep  emotion  in  the  soul,  and  there  is 
not  a belle  so  proud  that,  when  touched  by  the  moving 

i “I  shall  strive  to  forget  thee  and  die  under  the  yoke  of  misfortune; 

But  do  not  think  that  heaven  shall  fail  to  make  thee  feel  its  just  wrath. 

“When  I am  dead,  thou  wilt  bewail  having  crushed  an  affectionate  heart; 

And  even  after  death  this  miserable  creature  that  thou  dost  now  treat 
so  cruelly, 

Will  know  how  to  wreak  vengeance.” 

145 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


melody,  would  not  cast  herself  at  the  feet  of  the  one  who 
produces  it.” 

The  chief  merit  of  the  yaravi  consists  in  the  perfect  ac- 
cord of  the  music  with  the  words.  It  is  usually  sung  to 
the  sound  of  the  guitar  or  the  mandolin,  and  when  the 
singer  of  this  national  music  has  a plaintive  voice,  a fine 
presence  and  an  attractive  personality,  and  throws  into  it 
the  pathos  and  the  dramatic  expression  to  which  it  so 
readily  lends  itself,  he  is  always  sure  to  bring  tears  to  the 
cheeks  of  his  auditors,  and  to  excite  in  their  souls  mixed 
emotions  of  pain  and  ecstasy. 

Among  the  attractions  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of 
Arequipa,  that  are  always  sure  to  claim  the  attention  of 
the  traveler,  are  the  astronomical  observatory — a branch 
of  the  one  at  Harvard  University — and  the  celebrated  vol- 
cano of  Misti,  whose  snow-turbaned  summit  is  barely  ten 
miles  from  the  city’s  central  plaza. 

Owing  to  the  clearness  of  the  atmosphere  and  the  number 
of  cloudless  days  at  this  place,  the  observatory  is  probably 
more  favorably  located  than  any  other  observatory  in  the 
world.  As  a consequence  of  this  and  of  the  splendid  ad- 
ministration of  the  institution  since  its  foundation,  the  ob- 
servers stationed  there  have  been  able  to  achieve  results 
of  the  greatest  value  to  astronomic  science.  They  deserve 
special  commendation  for  the  splendid  work  they  have  ac- 
complished in  photographing  the  southern  skies.  By  this 
work  they  have  contributed,  more  than  any  other  single 
staff  of  astronomers,  towards  the  great  map  of  the 
heavens  whose  preparation  was  many  years  ago  con- 
fided to  the  activities  of  the  great  observatories  of  the 
world. 

As  an  evidence  of  the  remarkable  transparency  of  the 
atmosphere  at  Arequipa,  it  will  suffice  to  state  that  one  may 
frequently  see  Venus  and  Jupiter  shining  brilliantly  near 
midday,  in  spite  of  the  effulgence  of  the  noonday  sun.  The 
distinguished  Peruvian  writer,  just  quoted,  goes  farther 
and  declares  that,  “The  air  is  so  transparent  that  one  has 

146 


LA  VILLA  HERMOSA 


frequently  observed,  at  one  or  two  o’clock  in  the  afternoon, 
three  planets,  “shining  with  all  their  brilliance  the  same  as 
at  midnight” — “brilliant  de  tout  leur  eclat , comme  au 
milieu  de  la  nuit.”  1 

Mount  Misti,  “whose  sun-bright  summit  mingles  with 
the  sky,”  is  to  Arequipa  what  Etna  is  to  Catania — what 
Popocatepetl  is  to  the  City  of  Mexico,  and  what  Fujiyama 
is  to  Yokohama — the  most  conspicuous  and  the  most  in- 
teresting object  in  the  landscape.  It  is  also  to  many  an 
ever  present  menace,  and  to  the  Indians  in  the  neighbor- 
hood an  object  of  superstitious  dread.  From  the  time  of 
the  conquest,  it  was  regarded  as  a dormant  volcano,  al- 
though it  was  frequently  the  center  of  violent  earthquakes 
that  wrought  great  devastation  in  Arequipa,  and  in  the 
neighboring  villages.  In  1868,  however,  there  was  a ter- 
rific eruption,  accompanied  by  an  earthquake  of  such 
violence  that  the  work  of  three  hundred  years  in  Arequipa 
was  laid  in  ruins  in  a few  minutes.2 

Misti  is  about  eighteen  thousand  five  hundred  feet  high, 
and  during  the  greater  part  of  the  year  its  summit  is 
mantled  with  snow.  On  each  side  of  it,  at  some  miles 
distant,  is  a lofty  peak  also  usually  snow-capped.  Misti  is 
regarded  as  the  high-priest,  and  the  other  two  are  con- 
sidered his  acolytes.  Miguel  del  Carpio,  a poet  of  Are- 
quipa, has  well  described  it  in  the  following  verses: 

‘ ‘ Immensa  mole,  que  del  Dios  eterno 
Ostentas  el  poder,  volean  terrible, 

Que  abrigas  en  tu  seno  al  mismo  Infierno ; 

1 Gkeographie  du  Peru,  p.  279,  Paris,  1863. 

2 Perez  de  Torres,  who  traveled  in  Peru  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  informs  us  that  it  was  the  custom  of  the  Indians  living  near  Are- 
quipa to  propitiate  El  Zopay — the  spirit  of  the  volcano — by  casting  ten  or 
twelve  young  maidens  into  the  crater  every  year.  This  custom  they  were 
compelled  to  abandon  after  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards,  but,  whenever  there 
was  an  eruption  of  a volcano  after  that,  the  Indians  declared  it  was  in 
consequence  of  the  anger  of  the  Zopay  at  not  receiving  his  annual  tribute 
of  youthful  victims.  H-istoriadores  Primitives  de  Indias,  por  Andres  Gon- 
zales Barcia,  Tom.  Ill,  p.  12,  Madrid,  1749. 


147 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Y que  el  dedo  invisible 
Del  miedo  y del  terror  siempre  mostrando, 

A1  pueblo  de  las  Gracias  y de  las  Risas 
En  tus  calladas  iras  tiranizas!”1 

i “Immense  mountain,  that  of  the  eternal  God  dost  show  forth  the  power, 
terrible  volcano,  that  holds  within  thy  bosom  Hell  itself,  and  which,  ever 
pointing  the  invisible  finger  of  fear  and  terror  at  the  people  of  Graces  and 
Laughter,  dost  tyrannize  them  in  thy  silent  wrath!” 


148 


CHAPTER  IX 


THE  CRADLE  OF  THE  INCAS 

After  a delightful  visit  to  Arequipa  we  started  for  the 
far-famed  lake  of  Titicaca,  the  traditional  cradle  of  the 
Incas.  Although  the  distance  between  the  two  points  is 
little  more  than  two  hundred  miles,  it  took  the  train  more 
than  twelve  hours  to  make  the  run.  This  was  caused  by 
the  heavy  grades  and  the  numerous  sharp  curves  along 
the  greater  part  of  the  road. 

A few  hours  after  leaving  Arequipa  I noticed  that  a 
number  of  the  passengers  were  preparing  for  a siege  of 
soroche — mountain  sickness.  Some  of  them  were  taking 
all  the  precautions  adopted  by  people  inclined  to  sea-sick- 
ness, when  they  cross  the  English  Channel.  They  wrapped 
themselves  in  cloaks  and  lap-robes  to  keep  warm,  and 
assumed  a reclining  posture,  in  order  to  he  as  comfortable 
as  possible  while  crossing  the  crest  of  the  western  Cor- 
dillera. Many  sucked  oranges  and  sweet  lemons,  as  they 
contended  that  the  juice  of  these  fruits  is  a prevention  of 
soroche.  Others,  in  imitation  of  the  Indians,  chewed  coca 
leaves,  which  they  claimed  to  be  a specific  against  the  dread 
malady.  In  spite,  however,  of  all  precautions,  many  were 
quite  ill  before  they  reached  Crucero  Alto,  the  highest 
point  on  the  line.  The  road  here  attains  an  altitude  of 
more  than  fourteen  thousand  five  hundred  feet,  which,  next 
to  the  Morococha,  is  the  highest  elevation  attained  by  any 
railway  in  Peru. 

Personally,  I felt  no  ill  effects  whatever  in  consequence 
of  the  diminished  pressure,  and  had  I not  constantly  con- 
sulted my  barometer,  I should  not  have  realized  that  I 
was  traveling  in  such  great  altitudes.  The  air  was  dry 

149 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


and  crisp,  but  I was  scarcely  conscious  of  its  increased 
rarity.  And,  although  the  temperature  was  considerably 
reduced  near  the  summit  of  the  range,  I never  suffered 
from  the  cold  as  I did  at  much  lower  altitudes  in  Ecuador, 
a thousand  miles  nearer  the  equator.  One  reason  for  this 
was  the  almost  total  absence  of  wind  in  the  Peruvian 
sierras,  at  the  time  of  our  passage,  which  was  in  marked 
contrast  with  the  boreal  blasts  we  had  to  endure  in  the 
open  cars  on  the  chilly  tablelands  circling  the  base  of 
Chimborazo. 

The  country  through  which  the  railroad  passes  is  but 
sparsely  inhabited  and  is  desolate  in  the  extreme.  There 
are  a few  small  villages  here  and  there,  occupied  chiefly 
by  hardy  Indians  who  manage  to  eke  out  a precarious  ex- 
istence— it  is  difficult  to  see  how — but  who  seem  to  be  as 
much  attached  to  their  ichu-thatched  adobe  huts  as  are  the 
Swiss  mountaineers  to  their  Alpine  cottages. 

This  elevated  and  inhospitable  region  of  the  Cordillera 
is  known  in  Peru  as  the  puna  and  corresponds  to  the 
paramo  of  Colombia  and  Venezuela.  It  is  barren  and 
frigid  and  unpeopled,  except  along  a few  water  courses  and 
around  the  shore  of  certain  lakes.  Here  one  will  find  an 
occasional  shepherd  tending  his  flock  of  hardy  alpacas  or 
seeking  pasture  for  a few  half-famished  llamas.  In  the 
lakes  one  may  sometimes  see  small  flocks  of  water-fowl — 
usually  certain  species  of  wild  ducks  and  geese — but,  out- 
side of  these,  the  only  animals  that  seem  at  home  in  these 
bleak  and  dismal  regions  are  the  mountain-loving  con- 
dor and  the  fine-fleeced,  liquid-eyed  vicuna — the  graceful 
cameloid  mammal,  whose  delicate  wool  was  so  highly  prized 
by  the  Incas  of  old,  that  the  use  of  its  fleece  by  those 
not  of  the  blood  royal,  was  forbidden  under  penalty  of 
death. 

We  reached  Puno,  a small  town  on  the  west  shore  of 
Lake  Titicaca,  about  an  hour  after  sunset,  and  immediately 
boarded  the  steamer  that  was  to  take  us  to  Guaqui  in 
Bolivia.  Instead,  however,  of  starting  at  once,  according 

150 


THE  CRADLE  OF  THE  INCAS 

to  schedule,  we  did  not  get  under  way  until  early  the  next 
morning. 

The  remarkable  thing  about  our  steamer  was  the  fact 
that  it  had  been  put  on  the  lake  before  the  railway  was 
built.  The  material  and  the  machinery  employed  in  its 
construction  were  actually  brought  from  the  Pacific  on  the 
backs  of  men  and  animals,  and,  so  great  was  the  labor  and 
expense  involved  that,  it  is  said,  the  craft,  when  completed, 
cost  its  weight  in  silver.  The  cost  of  the  vessel  before  she 
was  launched  must,  indeed,  have  been  enormous.  Since  the 
completion  of  the  railroad  from  Mollendo,  several  other 
larger  steamers  have  been  put  on  the  lake  and  they  trans- 
port all  the  freight  and  passengers  between  Puno  and 
Gruaqui,  as  well  as  most  of  the  traffic  that  is  destined  for 
the  larger  towns  on  the  shores  of  the  lake.1 

In  many  respects,  Lake  Titicaca  is  the  most  remarkable 
body  of  water  in  the  world.  There  are  smaller  lakes  that 
have  a greater  altitude,2  but  for  a large,  navigable  body  of 
water,  it  is  quite  unique.  Its  average  width  is  thirty-five 
miles  and  its  length  one  hundred  and  ten.  Its  area,  con- 
sequently, is  about  fifteen  times  as  great  as  that  of  Lake 
Geneva  and  nearly  equal  to  that  of  Lake  Erie.  But  this  is 
only  a small  fraction  of  what  it  was  during  recent  geologic 
times.  Then  it  covered  more  territory  than  is  now  oc- 
cupied by  Lake  Nyanza  or  Superior,  and  was,  when  its 
waters  drained  into  the  Amazon,  the  largest  reservoir  of  the 
largest  river  in  the  world.  It  was  then,  too,  much  deeper 
than  it  is  at  present,  although  it  still  has,  according  to 

1 The  two  largest  steamers  on  the  lake  are  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  tons 
burden,  with  fifty-horse-power  engines.  Including  their  transportation  on 
the  backs  of  mules  from  the  Pacific,  they  are  said  to  have  cost  the  Peruvian 
government  a million  soles,  an  immense  sum  for  such  small  craft.  Although 
the  projectors  of  steam  navigation  on  Lake  Titicaca  had  great  difficulty  in 
getting  their  vessels  on  its  waters  they  did  not  encounter  therein  those  large 
masses  of  loadstone  which  Padre  Bias  Valera,  a contemporary  of  Garcilaso, 
said  existed  there  and  which,  he  averred,  would,  like  the  magnetic  moun- 
tain of  the  Calender  in  the  Arabian  story,  render  navigation  impossible. 

2 The  picturesque  lakes,  called  Lagunillas,  near  Crucero  Alto,  are  a third 
of  a mile  higher  than  Lake  Titicaca. 

151 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Alexander  Agassiz,  an  average  depth  of  a hundred 
fathoms.1 

Its  elevation  above  the  level  of  the  sea  is  twelve  thou- 
sand and  five  hundred  feet — twice  the  height  of  Mount 
Washington,  and  higher  than  the  Yungfrau,  the  pride  of 
the  Alps.  And  high  above  its  elevated  surface  rises,  on 
its  eastern  shore,  the  lofty  range  of  the  Cordillera  Real, 
with  the  cloud-piercing  peaks  of  Illampu  and  Huyana- 
Potosi,  long  believed  to  rival  in  altitude  the  loftiest  sum- 
mits of  the  Himalayas,  and  to  tower  above  Huascaran  and 
Aconcagua,  the  giant  peaks  of  the  great  Andean  range.2 

I was  now  in  the  Thibet  of  the  New  World,  and  on  the 
roof  of  the  South  American  continent.  I had  attained  an- 
other one  of  the  goals  I had,  at  the  outset  of  my  journey, 
so  eagerly  desired  to  reach,  and  had,  at  the  same  time, 
realized  another  one  of  the  fond  dreams  of  my  youth — a 
visit  to  the  land  of  the  Incas  and  the  Aymaras. 

Yes,  finally,  I had  before  me  the  famed  cradle  of  the 
Inca  race,  the  reputed  birthplace  of  the  children  of  the  Sun, 
and  this  thought  almost  made  me  oblivious  of  the 
magnificent  panoramas  that,  in  every  direction,  presented 
themselves  to  my  enchanted  gaze.  In  the  highlands  of 
Colombia  and  Ecuador  my  eyes  had  feasted  on  many  scenes 
of  transcending  beauty  and  sublimity,  but  the  vista  that 
was  now  before  me  impressed  me,  in  some  respects,  more 
deeply  than  anything  I had  before  seen  in  any  part  of  the 
world. 

In  the  foreground  was  the  turquoise  blue  expanse  of 
Titicaca,  decked  with  its  russet-colored  islands — for  it  was 

1 The  maximum  depth  of  the  lake,  according  to  the  soundings  made  by 
Agassiz,  is  one  hundred  and  fifty-four  fathoms.  Wiener,  however,  in  his 
Perou  et  Bolivie,  p.  390,  tells  us  that  his  measurements  gave  a depth  in 
many  places  of  five  hundred  and  thirty  meters — seventeen  hundred  and  thirty- 
nine  feet.  One  may  gauge  the  truth  of  this  statement  by  his  declaration  in 
the  same  paragraph,  that  the  snowy  range  of  Sorata  is  more  than  thirty 
leagues  from  the  shore  of  the  lake,  when,  as  a matter  of  fact,  it  is  scarcely 
more  than  one-fourth  of  that  distance. 

2 According  to  the  most  reliable  measurements,  the  altitude  of  Illampu 
is  about  twenty-one  thousand  and  five  hundred  feet  above  the  sea. 

152 


THE  CRADLE  OF  THE  INCAS 


the  winter  season — and  in  the  distance  was  the  snowy 
crest  of  the  Cordillera  Real,  suffused  with  an  Alpen-glow 
by  the  first  rays  of  the  morning  sun. 

The  range  of  Sorata,  with  its  glittering  peaks  and  clear- 
cut  ridges  of  dazzling  whiteness,  stood  before  us  in  all  its 
beauty  and  grandeur.  And  so  tranquil  was  the  lake  that 
all  this  wondrous  panorama  was  perfectly  mirrored  in  its 
broad  expanse.  In  one  single  view  we  had  before  us  the  Al- 
pine marvels  of  Switzerland  and  Alaska,  the  broad  glaciers 
and  snow  fields,  sources  of  countless  rivers,  and  massive, 
rocky  pinnacles  that  seemed  to  touch  the  empyrean. 
No  wonder  that  objects  so  conspicuous  and  so  imposing 
were  the  subjects  of  untold  legends  among  the  children  of 
the  Sun;  that  they  were  from  time  immemorial  objects  of 
superstitious  worship;  that  Illimani  and  Huayna-Potosi, 
like  Olympus  and  Valhalla  of  other  climes,  were  regarded 
by  them  as  the  abode  of  gods  and  heroes.  In  the  presence 
of  such  a sublime  spectacle  one’s  irrepressible  emotions 
find  expression  in  the  following  words  of  the  poet : 

“Ye  Pyramids  of  God!  around  whose  bases 
The  sea  foams  noteless  in  his  narrow  cup ; 

And  the  unseen  movements  of  the  earth  send  up 
A murmur  which  your  lulling  snow  effaces 
Like  the  deer’s  footsteps.  Thrones  imperished! 

About  whose  adamantine  steps  the  breath 
Of  dying  generations  vanisheth, 

Less  cognizable  than  clouds ; and  dynasties, 

Less  glorious  and  more  feeble  than  the  array 
Of  your  frail  glaciers,  unregarded  rise, 

Totter  and  vanish.” 

Around  the  shore  of  the  lake  were  picturesque  towns  and 
villages  surrounded  by  hills,  striated  by  countless  andenes 
— terraced  farms  or  gardens. 

Between  the  shore  and  the  deep  water  were  verdant  fields 
of  myriophyllum  and  totora — species  of  reed — extending  to 
a depth  of  six  or  seven  fathoms,  where  myriads  of  aquatic 

153 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


birds,  the  chief  fauna  of  the  lake,  were  feeding,  and  where 
herds  of  grazing  cattle  were  standing,  some  of  them  almost 
beneath  the  surface,  and  actually,  at  times,  plunging  their 
heads  below  the  surface,  as  if  in  the  act  of  diving  for  the 
vegetation  on  which  they  were  browsing.  On  the  islands  of 
Titicaca  and  Coati  were  cottages  of  stone  and  adobe, 
thatched  with  ichu  grass  and  surrounded  by  gardens  that 
dated  back  almost  to  the  time  of  Manco  Capac. 

Here  and  there,  flitting  across  the  tranquil  lake,  were 
those  curious  reed  balsas  propelled  by  oars  and  by  sails 
made  of  reed,  reminding  one  of  similar  craft  figured  on 
the  tomb  of  Rameses  III,  at  Thebes.  They  are,  indeed, 
quaint-looking  craft,  but  soon  become  water-logged.  Ap- 
parently, they  are  as  frail  and  as  unseaworthy  as  an 
Eskimo  kayak,  or  a currach  of  the  type  St.  Brendan  is 
said  to  have  used  in  his  voyage  to  America.  But,  notwith- 
standing this,  the  Quichua  and  Aymara  boatmen  do  not 
hesitate  to  cross  the  lake  in  them,  carrying  both  freight 
and  passengers.  In  some  of  these  boats  one  may  occa- 
sionally see  a patient  fisherman,  but  as  the  fish  are  few  in 
number  and  small  in  size — only  a few  species  1 existing 
in  the  lake — the  expectant  angler  has  but  slight  reward 
for  his  pains. 

I wondered,  while  watching  these  humble  disciples  of 
Izaak  Walton,  whether  the  Peruvian  and  Bolivian  govern- 
ments had  ever  made  any  attempt  to  stock  the  lake  with 
fish.  I know  of  no  place  where  an  experiment  in  pisci- 
culture should  yield  more  interesting  results,2  or  where 
success  would  prove  a greater  boon  to  the  thousands  who 

1 Only  six  species,  Siluroids  and  Cyprenoids,  are  known — a very  small  num- 
ber, as  Alexander  Agassiz  observes,  for  a body  of  water  as  large  as  Lake 
Erie. 

2 There  is,  unfortunately,  one  drawback  to  successful  fish-culture  here, 
which  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  bottom  of  the  lake — in  places  one  hundred 
and  fifty  fathoms  beneath  the  surface — is  covered  with  a bed  of  very  fine 
silt,  which  is  brought  down  from  the  mountains  by  the  rivers  which  flow 
into  the  lake.  See  Hydrographic  Sketch  of  Lake  Titicaca,  by  Alexander 
Agassiz,  in  the  Proceedings  of  the  American  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences, 
Vol.  XI,  p.  284,  1876. 


154 


Fishermen  on  Lake  Titicaca,  near  Puno. 


Celebration  of  a Festival  at  Copacabana. 


THE  CRADLE  OF  THE  INCAS 

are  now  forced  to  live  on  the  most  meager  fare.  If  onr 
Fish  Commission  were  to  take  the  matter  in  hand,  there  is 
every  reason  to  believe  that  Lake  Titicaca  would,  in  a few 
years,  be  teeming  with  the  choicest  fish  of  many  species, 
and  that  its  broad  and  deep  waters  could  soon  be  made  an 
invaluable  source  of  food-supply  for  all  the  inhabitants  of 
the  tableland  from  La  Paz  to  Cuzco. 

But,  interesting  as  are  the  physical  features  of  Titicaca 
and  its  surroundings ; interesting  as  are  the  people  who  in- 
habit its  islands  and  shores;  interesting  as  are  the  count- 
less historical  associations  connected  with  it  since  the  time 
of  the  conquest,  it  possessed  for  me  a far  greater  fascina- 
tion on  account  of  the  legends  and  traditions  connected 
with  the  origin  and  development  of  the  great  Inca  empire. 

“Our  Father,  the  Sun,  seeing  the  human  race  in  the  con- 
dition I have  described — living  like  wild  beasts,  without 
religion  or  government,  or  town  or  houses;  without  cul- 
tivating the  land,  or  clothing  their  bodies,  for  they  knew 
not  how  to  weave  cotton  or  wool  to  make  clothes;  living 
in  caves  or  clefts  in  the  rocks,  or  in  caverns  under  the 
ground,  eating  the  herbs  of  the  field  and  roots  and  fruit, 
like  wild  animals,  and  also  human  flesh — had  compassion 
upon  them,  and  sent  down  from  heaven  to  the  earth  a son 
and  a daughter  to  instruct  them  in  the  knowledge  of  our 
Father,  the  Sun,  that  they  might  adore  him,  and  adopt  him 
as  their  God ; also  to  give  them  precepts  and  laws  by  which 
to  live  as  reasonable  and  civilized  men  and  to  teach  them 
to  live  in  houses  and  towns,  to  cultivate  maize  and  other 
crops,  to  breed  flocks,  to  use  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  like 
rational  beings,  instead  of  living  like  beasts.  With  these 
commands  and  intentions,  our  Father,  the  Sun,  placed  his 
two  children  in  the  lake  of  Titicaca,  which  is  eighty  leagues 
from  here;  and  he  said  to  them  that  they  might  go  where 
they  pleased,  and  that,  at  every  place  where  they  stopped 
to  eat  or  sleep,  they  were  to  thrust  a scepter  of  gold  into 
the  ground,  which  was  a half  a yard  long,  and  two  fingers 
in  thickness.  He  gave  them  this  staff  as  a sign  and  token, 

155 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


that  in  the  place  where  by  one  blow  on  the  earth,  it  should 
sink  down  and  disappear,  there  it  was  the  desire  of  our 
Father,  the  Sun,  that  they  should  remain  and  establish 
their  court.  ’ ’ 1 

Thus,  from  the  lips  of  a venerable  Inca  in  Cuzco,  did  the 
historian  of  the  conquest  of  Peru,  Garcilaso  de  la  Vega, 
receive  the  story  of  the  origin  of  the  empire  of  his  illustri- 
ous ancestors.  And  no  one  was  more  competent  to  write 
on  the  subject  than  he,  for,  in  addition  to  his  varied 
scholastic  attainments,  he  was,  on  his  mother’s  side,  a 
great-grandson  of  the  illustrious  Inca  Yupanqui,  while  his 
mother,  a highly  gifted  woman,  was  the  daughter  of  the 
Inca  Hualpa  Tupac. 

But,  who  were  these  two  children  of  the  Sun — Manco 
Capac  and  Mama  Ocllo,  his  sister  and  subsequently  his 
spouse  and  queen?  Whence  did  they  come?  To  what  race 
did  they  belong?  Whence  did  they  obtain  that  knowledge 
of  the  arts  and  sciences,  which  they  utilized  with  such 
splendid  effect  for  the  advancement  and  prosperity  of 
their  people?  What-was  the  secret  of  that  incipient  civili- 
zation of  which  they  were  the  pioneers?  Did  they  come 
from  Europe  or  Asia,  bringing  with  them  the  knowledge 
and  the  civilization  of  the  Old  World?  If  so,  how  were 
they  able  to  traverse  the  immense  distance  that  separated 
the  place  of  their  birth  from  the  land  that  was  to  be  the 
scene  of  their  future  achievements? 

If  Manco  Capac  was  not  a stranger,  he  must  have  been 
endowed  with  a genius  of  the  highest  order,  to  be  able, 
within  a few  short  years,  to  regenerate  a people  that  had 
fallen  into  the  lowest  depth  of  savagery  and  degradation. 
It  was  not  sufficient  for  him  to  claim  to  descend  from  the 
Deity,  in  order  to  become  a master  leader  of  men  and  the 
founder  of  a great  and  powerful  empire.  He  had  to  justify 
by  deeds  rather  than  words  his  claim  to  be  the  son  of  the 
Sun.  Unlike  Numa  and  Lycurgus,  who  started  with  a 
foundation  to  work  on,  who  had  only  to  develop  and  perfect 

i Garcilaso  de  la  Vega,  op.  cit.,  Lib.  I,  Cap.  XV. 

156 


THE  CRADLE  OF  THE  INCAS 


a civilization  already  existing,  Manco  Capac  found  only 
brutal  cavemen  and  nomadic  savages.  All  was  darkness 
and  chaos.  He  had  to  create  everything  before  even  the 
simplest  approach  to  an  organized  community  and  a stable 
government  was  possible. 

Students  of  archaeology  and  historical  criticism  have  es- 
sayed in  vain  to  answer  the  above  questions,  to  penetrate 
the  obscurity  that  envelops  the  origin  of  the  Inca  dynasty, 
to  separate  the  authentic  traditions  transmitted  from 
father  to  son,  from  the  countless  legends  and  fables  that 
are  as  puzzling  and  as  inexplicable  as  the  fictions  of  Greek 
or  Hindu  mythology.  All  is  still  shrouded  in  mystery — 
in  mystery  even  darker  than  that  which  veils  the  advent 
of  the  Toltecs  and  Aztecs  to  the  vale  of  Anahuac;  more 
profound  than  that  which  obscures  the  first  beginnings  of 
the  civilizations  on  the  elevated  Pamirs  and  in  the  valleys 
of  the  Nile  and  the  Euphrates. 

In  all  this  uncertainty  and  mystery,  however,  one  fact 
seems  to  remain  incontrovertible,  and  that  is  that  Manco 
Capac  and  Mama  Ocllo  first  appeared  on  the  shores  of 
Lake  Titicaca.  On  this  point  tradition  and  the  concurrent 
testimony  of  the  earlier  historians  are  practically  at  one. 
Indeed,  at  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards,  the 
memories  among  the  natives  of  their  first  Inca  rulers  and 
of  their  first  appearance  in  the  neighborhood  of  Lake  Titi- 
caca, were  comparatively  fresh  and  uniform.  Another 
fact,  too,  is  unquestioned.  Whether  Manco  Capac,  the 
Minos  of  Peru,  was  of  foreign  or  of  native  origin,  it  is  cer- 
tain that  he  was  able  in  the  space  of  thirty  years,  to  lay 
the  foundations  of  that  vast  empire  which,  under  the  Inca 
Yupanqui  extended  its  conquests  to  the  Maule  in  Chile, 
and  under  Huayna  Capac,  planted  its  victorious  banners 
above  the  fortresses  of  the  Shiris  in  the  extended  territory 
of  Quito,  and  which  gave  its  laws  and  religion  and  lan- 
guage to  hundreds  of  conquered  tribes  from  the  great  ocean 
on  the  west  to  the  forest-clad  slopes  of  the  Andes  on  the 
east. 


157 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


And  while  Manco  Capac  was  establishing  his  government 
— patriarchal  and  despotic — and  teaching  his  people  the 
arts  of  agriculture  and  civilized  life,  his  sister-wife — Mama 
Ocllo,  was,  says  Garcilaso,  employing  “the  Indian  women 
in  such  work  as  is  suitable  to  them,  such  as  to  sew  and 
weave  cotton  and  wool,  to  make  clothes  for  themselves, 
their  husbands  and  children,  and  to  perform  other  house- 
hold duties,”  thus  making  herself  the  coy  a — queen — and 
mistress  of  the  women  as  the  Inca  made  himself  the  king 
and  master  of  the  men.1 

It  would  be  difficult  to  find  any  place  in  the  world  richer 
in  legends  and  traditions  than  is  Lake  Titicaca.  Every 
cove  and  inlet,  every  rock  and  island  has  its  myth,  and 
many  of  these  places  were  held  in  special  veneration  by  the 
Incas  for  long  generations.  This  was  specially  true  of 
two  islands — Titicaca — sacred  to  the  sun,  and  Coati — 
sacred  to  the  moon,  the  sun’s  sister. 

What  a fascination  there  was  about  these  two  islands! 
Beholding  the  cradle  and  the  sanctuary  of  Inca  civiliza- 
tion, it  was  easy  to  fancy  oneself  a spectator  of  one  of 
those  long  processions  of  reed  balsas  conveying  the  chil- 
dren of  the  Sun  from  the  mainland  to  the  sacred  islands  of 
their  race,  where  were  the  rich  temples  and  shrines  dedi- 
cated to  their  Sun-Father  and  Moon-Mother.  Adorned 
with  gorgeous  trappings  of  gold  and  silver — royal  colors 
— the  Inca’s  barge,  manned  by  stalwart  young  oarsmen 
specially  selected  for  this  service,  led  the  way.  Immedi- 
ately following  the  sphinx-like  Inca  came  the  members  of 
his  court  arrayed  in  gaudy  vesture.  Next  to  them  were  the 
ministers  of  the  temple  and  the  officers  of  his  army,  gleam- 
ing in  barbaric  attire.  The  rear  of  the  procession  was 
made  up  of  the  humble  tillers  of  the  soil,  who  had  gathered 
from  all  parts  to  greet  their  idolized  ruler  and  to  swell 
the  number  of  worshipers  congregated  about  the  effigies 
of  the  Sun  and  the  Moon,  or  in  front  of  Sacred  Rock  decked 
with  richest  tissues  and  plates  of  burnished  silver  and  gold. 

1 Op.  cit.,  Lib.  I,  Cap.  XVI. 


158 


THE  CRADLE  OF  THE  INCAS 


“The  natives,”  writes  Cieza  de  Leon,  “held  a very  vain 
and  foolish  belief,  which  was,  that  in  the  time  of  their  an- 
cestors there  was  no  light  for  many  days,  and  that  when 
all  was  wrapped  in  darkness  and  obscurity,  the  resplendent 
sun  came  up  out  of  this  island  of  Titicaca,  for  which  reason 
it  was  considered  sacred,  and  the  Incas  erected  a temple 
on  it  in  honor  of  the  sun,  which  was  much  revered  and 
venerated  among  them,  and  which  contained  many  virgins 
and  priests,  and  great  store  of  treasure,  of  which  the 
Spaniards,  at  different  times,  have  collected  a great  deal, 
but  most  of  it  is  still  missing.”  1 

But  the  most  sacred  part  of  the  island  was  a large  rock 
or  cliff  called  Tita-Kala,  which  was  revered  as  “the  house 
and  home  of  the  sun,  or  the  one  thing  which  it  most 
esteemed  in  the  world.” 

Another  legend  was  that  the  sun,  moon  and  stars  were 
created  at  Tiahuanaco,  of  which  we  shall  learn  more  in  a 
subsequent  chapter,  and  that,  after  being  created,  they 
were  ordered  to  go  to  the  island  of  Titicaca,  and  thence 
ascend  to  heaven  and  take  the  places  they  now  occupy.2 

The  ruins  of  the  temples  and  palaces — built  of  stone — 
on  the  islands  of  Titicaca  and  Coati  are  still  so  well  pre- 
served that  the  plans  of  many  of  them  can  be  made  out  with 
little  difficulty,  and  some  of  them  are  among  the  best  and 
most  interesting  specimens  of  Inca  architecture  now  exist- 
ing in  Peru. 

In  these  temples  and  palaces,  according  to  the  old 
chroniclers,  were  immense  treasures  rivaling  those  in  the 
temples  of  Cuzco.  The  riches  in  the  temple  of  the  Sun 
were  specially  great,  for  “Here,”  writes  Garcilaso,  “all 
the  vassals  of  the  Inca  offered  up  much  gold  and  silver 

1 Op.  eit.,  Cap.  CIV.  Compare,  also,  the  Segunda  Parte  de  la  Cronica, 
Cap.  V,  p.  5,  Madrid,  1880,  in  the  Biblioteca  Hispano-Ultramarina.  By  a 
strange  error,  into  which  anyone  might  fall,  this  work  of  Cieza  was  attrib- 
uted by  Prescott  to  Sarmiento. 

2 Relacion  de  las  fabulas  y ritos  de  los  Yngas  hecha  por  Cristoval  de 
Molina,  translated  by  Clements  R.  Markham  and  published  by  the  Hakluyt 
Society  in  N arratives  of  the  Rites  and  Laws  of  the  Incas,  p.  5,  London,  1873. 

159 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


and  precious  stones  every  year,  as  a token  of  gratitude  to 
the  Sun,  for  the  two  acts  of  grace  which  had  taken  place 
on  that  spot.  This  temple  had  the  same  service  as  that  of 
Cuzco.  There  was  said  to  be  such  a quantity  of  gold  and 
silver  as  offerings,  heaped  up  in  the  island,  besides  what 
was  worked  for  the  use  of  the  temple,  that  the  stories  of 
the  Indians  concerning  it  are  more  wonderful  than  credible. 
Father  Bias  Valera,  one  of  the  earliest  Spanish  chroniclers, 
speaking  of  the  riches  of  this  temple  and  of  the  quantity 
of  wealth  that  had  been  collected  there,  says  that  the  In- 
dian colonists,  called  Mitimaes,  who  lived  in  Copocabana, 
declared  that  the  quantity  of  gold  and  silver,  heaped  up 
as  offerings,  was  so  great  that  another  temple  might  have 
been  made  out  of  it,  from  the  foundations  to  the  roof, 
without  using  any  other  materials.  But  as  soon  as  the 
Indians  heard  of  the  invasion  of  the  country  by  the 
Spaniards,  and  that  they  were  seizing  all  the  treasure 
they  could  find,  they  threw  the  whole  of  it  into  the  great 
lake.”  1 

“When  you  go  to  Titicaca,”  said  a friend  to  me  before 
leaving  Lima,  “be  sure  to  go  to  Copocabana.  I have  just 
come  from  there  and  it  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
places  I ever  saw.  This  is  the  month  for  pilgrimages  there 
to  the  famous  sanctuary  of  Our  Lady  de  la  Candelaria — 
La  Santisima  Virgen  de  Copacabana — which  dates  back  al- 
most to  the  time  of  the  conquest,  and  was,  for  a long  time, 
the  richest  and  most  celebrated  sanctuary  in  South  Amer- 
ica. Although  the  place  has  lost  much  of  its  former  pres- 
tige and  the  convent  and  hospice  have  been  allowed  to 
deteriorate,  nevertheless,  the  multitudes  of  people  who 

1 Op.  cit.,  Lib.  Ill,  Cap.  XXV.  For  detailed  information  by  modern  writers 
of  the  ruins  of  Titicaca  and  Coati,  the  reader  may  profitably  consult  Peruvian 
Antiquities,  by  Rivero  and  Tschudi,  New  York,  1855;  Peru,  Incidents  of 
Travel  and  Explorations  in  the  Land  of  the  Incas,  by  E.  G.  Squier,  London, 
1877,  and  L’Empire  du  Soleil,  par  le  Baron  et  La  Baronne  de  Meyendorff, 
Paris,  1909,  and  especially  The  Islands  of  Titicaca  and  Coati,  by  A.  F.  Bande- 
lier,  New  York,  1910,  a copy  of  which  I received  only  after  this  chapter  was 
ready  for  the  press. 


160 


THE  CRADLE  OF  THE  INCAS 

still  congregate  there  from  all  parts  of  Peru  and  Bolivia 
are  truly  astonishing.” 

My  friend  was  right.  Copocabana — La  Ciudad  Bendita, 
the  blessed  City — is  well  worth  a visit,  if  only  to  study 
the  crowds  that  assemble  in  and  around  the  large  and 
beautiful  church  which,  with  its  white  cupolas,  has,  at  a 
distance,  the  appearance  of  a basilica  whose  architecture 
is  half  Byzantine  and  half  Spanish  renaissance.  The 
shrine  of  the  Virgencita  Milagrosisima — the  most  miracu- 
lous little  virgin — is  situated  behind  the  altar  and  in  it 
is  placed  the  statue  that  has  given  the  sanctuary  its  fame 
and  which,  for  centuries,  has  been  the  magnet  that  has 
annually  drawn  to  this  venerated  spot  thousands  of  pil- 
grims from  all  parts  of  the  southern  continent.  The 
image  has  a lovely  crown  of  gold,  and  is  lavishly  decked 
with  the  rarest  and  most  precious  stones  and  pearls  that 
devotion  and  gratitude  could  suggest. 

To  be  present  at  any  of  the  festivals  celebrated  in  this 
sanctuary,  especially  during  the  time  of  a pilgrimage;  to 
hear  the  sacred  canticles  then  chanted  in  the  Aymara  lan- 
guage by  a confused  multitude  of  Indians  and  Spaniards 
from  different  and  distant  lands;  to  note  the  harmonious 
echoes  of  those  salves  that  greet  the  pilgrims  on  their 
arrival — salves  that  are  famous  in  the  highlands  of 
Bolivia  and  Peru — and  have  all  this  commingled  with  the 
moaning  and  soughing  of  the  wind  among  the  massive 
crags  that  flank  and  tower  above  the  sacred  edifice,  and 
with  the  booming  of  the  waves  of  the  lake,  as  they  break 
at  the  foot  of  the  crowded  sanctuary,  is  an  experience  that 
is  as  unique  as  it  is  soul-stirring  and  memorable.  The 
nearest  approach,  probably,  to  such  a scene  is  at  the  annual 
festival  of  Our  Lady  of  Guadalupe  in  the  City  of  Mexico, 
or  on  the  occasion  of  one  of  the  great  national  pilgrimages 
of  France  to  the  grotto  of  Our  Lady  of  Lourdes  in  the 
Hautes-Pyrenees.1 

i Historia  de  Copacabana  y de  su  Milagrosa  Virgen,  escrita  por  el  R.  P. 
Fr.  Alonso  Ramos,  y compendiada  por  el  P.  Fr.  Rafael  Sans,  La  Paz,  1860. 

161 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

Not  far  from  Copocabana  is  the  small  town  of  Juli.  It 
was  at  one  time  a place  of  considerable  importance,  as  is 
evidenced  by  the  four  large  churches,  two  of  which,  besides 
being  splendid  specimens  of  architecture,  are  furnished 
with  paintings  and  carved  pulpits,  and  silver  altars,  that 
would  command  admiration  in  one  of  the  great  cathedrals 
of  Europe.  But  these  churches,  surprising  as  they  are  in 
this  almost  abandoned  place,  are  not  Juli’s  chief  claim  to 
distinction.  Incredible  as  it  may  seem,  this  unknown  place 
in  the  far-off  sierras, — so  distant  from  the  marts  of  com- 
merce and  so  devoid  of  means  of  communication  with  the 
outside  world, — possessed  a printing  press  several  years 
before  the  first  one  was  introduced  into  the  United  States. 
Here,  as  early  as  1612,  the  zealous  and  learned  old  mission- 
ary, Padre  Ludovico  Bertonio,  published  his  great  dic- 
tionary, of  more  than  nine  hundred  pages,  of  the  Aymara 
language.  Here,  too,  he  printed  a life  of  Christ,  in  Span- 
ish and  Aymara,  containing  nearly  six  hundred  pages. 

Elsewhere  I have  referred  to  the  numerous  works  writ- 
ten by  another  missionary,  Padre  Rivero,  under  most 
trying  circumstances,  on  the  banks  of  the  Meta,  but,  if  we 
were  called  upon  to  compare  the  astonishing  achievements 
of  these  two  devoted  standard-bearers  of  the  gospel  of 
peace,  we  should  be  inclined  to  award  the  palm  to  good 
old  Padre  Bertonio.  To  students  of  Aymara  and  compara- 
tive philology,  his  works  are  invaluable,  and  constitute  a 
splendid  monument  to  his  indefatigable  zeal  and  profound 
scholarship. 

A short  time  before  going  to  La  Paz  I met  an  English- 
man who  had  just  returned  from  Bolivia,  where  he  had 
been  on  business.  He  was  enthusiastic  about  his  trip, 
especially  about  a moonlight  excursion  he  had  made  on 
Lake  Titicaca. 

“It  was  wonderful,”  he  exclaimed,  “and  I never  en- 
joyed anything  so  much  in  my  life.  I have  seen  much  of 
the  world,  but  I have  never  seen  anything  that  so  fas- 
cinated me  as  the  magnificent  panoramas  I witnessed  from 

162 


THE  CRADLE  OF  THE  INCAS 


the  deck  of  the  steamer  while  sailing  under  a full  moon 
over  the  placid  waters  of  this  marvelous  lake.  Would  yon 
believe  it?  I actually  sat  up  all  night,  absolutely  en- 
chanted by  the  splendid  vistas,  ever  changing,  offered  by 
lake  and  mountain  and  sky.  I envy  you  the  pleasure  you 
have  before  you  on  Lake  Titicaca,  especially  if  the  condi- 
tions prevailing  there  should  be  as  favorable  as  they  were 
when  I made  the  trip.  ’ ’ 

So  eloquent  was  my  friend  about  the  gorgeous  views  to 
be  had  on  Lake  Titicaca,  from  one  end  to  the  other,  that 
I concluded  at  once  that  his  enthusiasm  had  caused  him 
greatly  to  exaggerate  the  beauties  and  attractions  I was 
soon  to  behold  with  my  own  eyes. 

But  I was  mistaken.  His  description,  far  from  being 
overdrawn,  fell  short  of  the  reality.  After  what  I had 
heard,  I had  looked  forward  to  much,  but  fearing  all  along 
that  I should  be  disappointed.  But  my  fondest  expecta- 
tions were  more  than  realized,  for  not  even  in  my  wildest 
fancies  could  I have  imagined  anything  more  ravishingly 
beautiful,  more  truly  sublime,  more  surpassingly  magnifi- 
cent. I thought,  when  on  the  lofty  tablelands  of  Ecuador, 
that  I had  beheld  mountain  scenery  at  its  best,  and  had 
scanned  the  heavens  under  their  most  imposing  aspects. 
But  Titicaca  had  new  marvels  for  me,  new  splendors  on 
the  earth,  new  glories  in  the  heavens. 

Fortunately,  during  the  days  and  nights  I spent  on  the 
lake,  there  was  ideal  weather.  There  was  scarcely  a ripple 
on  the  water.  The  sky  was  cloudless  and  of  that  splendid 
cerulean  hue  that  one  often  reads  of  but  rarely  sees.  The 
moon  was  as  round  as  Giotto’s  circle,  and  so  effulgent  that 
I could  almost  fancy  it  had  regained  that  splendor  of  which 
the  Inca  legend  says  the  sun  was  once  so  jealous.1  The 

i “They  say  that  the  moon  was  created  brighter  than  the  sun,  which  made 
the  sun  jealous  at  the  time  when  they  rose  into  the  sky.  So  the  sun  threw 
over  the  moon’s  face  a handful  of  ashes,  which  gave  it  the  shaded  color  it 
now  presents.”  The  History  of  the  Incas,  by  Pedro  Sarmiento  de  Gamboa, 
p.  33,  translated  by  Clements  R.  Markham,  and  published  by  the  Hakluyt 
Society,  London,  1907. 


163 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


stars,  too,  which  inlaid  the  floor  of  heaven  “with  pattens 
of  bright  gold”  shone  with  a brilliance  unknown  in  our 
murky  latitudes,  and  seemed  as  resplendent  as  they  must 
have  been  when  they  were  bidden  by  their  Creator  to  rise 
from  the  sacred  island  of  Titicaca  and  fix  themselves  in  the 
heavens. 

Among  them  were  the  Pleiades — Oncoy-coyllur — sick 
stars — which  among  the  Incas  were  objects  of  worship  on 
account  of  their  reputed  influence  on  certain  diseases,  as 
were  also  the  Hyades — Ahuaracaqui — tapir’s  jaw — which 
were  supposed  to  exert  a special  influence  during  seed  time. 
And  there  was  Venus,  the  most  beautiful  of  all  the  planets, 
known  to  the  ancient  Peruvians  as  Chasca,  “the  star  of  the 
long  and  curly  hair.” 

“The  Incas  honored  this  star,”  Garcilaso  informs  us, 
“because  they  said  it  was  the  page  of  the  sun,  traveling 
nearest  to  it,  sometimes  in  front  and  at  others  behind.  They 
venerated  the  Pleiades  because  of  their  curious  position 
and  the  symmetry  of  their  shape.  They  looked  upon  the 
host  of  stars  as  handmaidens  of  the  moon,  and  they,  there- 
fore, gave  them” — in  the  temples  of  the  moon — “a  hall 
near  that  of  their  mistress,  that  they  might  be  at  hand  for 
her  service,  for  they  said  that  the  stars  walk  through  the 
heavens  with  the  moon,  as  if  they  were  her  servants,  and 
not  with  the  sun.  This  they  said  because  they  saw  the 
stars  by  night  and  not  by  day.”  1 

Thanks  to  the  unwonted  splendor  of  the  moon  and  stars, 
which  permitted  us  to  distinguish  all  the  salient  features 
of  lake  and  Cordillera  with  the  greatest  ease,  the  nights  I 
spent  on  Lake  Titicaca  were  glorious  beyond  words  to  ex- 
press, and  they  will  always  be  associated  with  my  most 
delightful  experiences  in  South  America. 

But  however  fair  the  views  presented  to  our  enraptured 
gaze  in  the  subdued  light  of  the  moon  and  her  attendant 
“handmaidens,”  we  could  not  be  insensible  to  the  gorgeous 
vistas  that  burst  upon  our  vision  during  the  daytime.  It 
i Op.  cit..  Lib.  Ill,  Cap.  XXI. 


164 


THE  CRADLE  OF  THE  INCAS 

was  then,  especially  at  the  hours  of  dawn  and  twilight  that 
the  snow-crested  range  of  the  lofty  Cordillera  Real  was 
visible  in  all  its  transcendent  beauty  and  majesty.  For 
then,  as  if  by  magic,  various  colored  fires  seem  to  blaze 
forth  from  the  immense  glaciers  and  snow-fields,  and  to 
convert  the  sparkling  expanse  into  glowing  rubies,  sap- 
phires and  emeralds,  while  the  lofty  peaks  of  the  Sorata 
range  are  transformed  into  gleaming  pinnacles  of  bur- 
nished gold.  Then  in  fullest  perfection  and  in  palpable 
form  is  realized  that  vision  of  mountain  loveliness,  that 
crowning  splendor  of  earth  and  sky,  set  forth  in  Ruslan’s 
noble  lines:  “Wait  yet  for  one  hour,  until  the  east  again 
becomes  purple,  and  the  heaving  mountains,  rolling  against 
it  in  darkness,  like  waves  of  a wild  sea,  are  drowned  one 
by  one  in  the  glory  of  its  burning;  watch  the  white 
glaciers  blaze  in  their  winding  paths  about  the  mountains, 
like  mighty  serpents  with  scales  of  fire;  watch  the  columnar 
peaks  of  solitary  snow,  kindling  downwards,  chasm  by 
chasm,  each  in  itself  a new  morning;  their  long  avalanches 
cast  down  in  keen  streams  brighter  than  the  lightning, 
sending  each  his  tribute  of  driven  snow,  like  altar-smoke,  up 
to  the  heaven ; the  rose-light  of  their  silent  domes  flushing 
that  heaven  about  them  and  above  them,  piercing  with 
purer  light  through  its  purple  lines  of  lifted  cloud,  cast- 
ing a new  glory  on  every  wreath  as  it  passes  by,  until  the 
whole  heaven — one  scarlet  canopy — is  interwoven  with  a 
roof  of  waving  flame,  and  tossing,  vault  beyond  vault,  as 
with  the  drifted  wings  of  many  companies  of  angels;  and 
then,  when  you  can  look  no  more  for  gladness,  and  when 
you  are  bowed  down  with  fear  and  love  of  the  Maker  and 
Doer  of  this,  tell  me  who  has  best  delivered  this  His  mes- 
sage unto  men ! ’ ’ 1 

1 Modern  Painters,  Part  II,  Sec.  Ill,  Chap.  III. 


165 


CHAPTER  X 


IN  AYMAR ALAND 

We  arrived  at  Guaqui,  the  terminus  of  the  La  Paz  rail- 
road early  in  the  morning  after  an  ideal  sail  on  the  sacred 
lake  of  the  Incas.  The  temperature  was  near  the  freezing 
point,  but  the  air  was  so  dry  and  stimulating  and  the  morn- 
ing sun  so  bright  that  we  did  not  feel  the  cold.  And  to 
those  of  us  who  had  come  from  the  coast,  the  atmosphere 
was  like  a tonic  that  was  as  delicious  as  it  was  invigorating. 

While  waiting  for  the  making  up  of  the  train  that  was  to 
take  us  to  La  Paz,  we  were  much  interested  in  watching 
two  or  three  score  of  Aymara  Indians  who  had  been  en- 
gaged by  the  company  to  transfer  from  the  steamer  to  the 
wharf  several  hundred  boxes  of  specie  that  were  destined 
for  the  national  treasury  of  Bolivia.  In  any  other  part  of 
the  world  a large  number  of  police,  detectives  and  special 
agents  would  have  been  on  hand  during  the  transfer  of  so 
much  treasure  ; but  here  there  was  not  a single  one  visible. 
This  valuable  consignment  was  handled  like  so  much 
ordinary  freight,  and,  although  the  Indians  knew  very  well 
the  nature  of  the  precious  cargo,  which  for  the  time  being 
was  in  their  keeping,  the  agent  who  was  responsible  for 
its  safe  delivery  to  La  Paz,  did  not  exhibit  the  slightest 
apprehension  regarding  the  security  of  the  vast  fortune 
entrusted  to  his  care.  When  I asked  him  if  he  was  not 
afraid  of  the  Indians  stealing  some  of  the  coin  he  replied 
at  once:  “Not  in  the  least.  There  is  not  the  slightest 
danger  of  that.  They  are  poor,  very  poor,  but  thievery  is 
not  one  of  their  vices.  If  one  of  them  saw  a bright  ribbon 
tied  around  one  of  the  boxes  he  might  be  tempted  to  ap- 
propriate it  for  his  wife  or  sweetheart,  or,  if  he  came  across 

166 


IN  AYMARALAND 


a bottle  of  aguardiente,  be  would  very  likely  take  a dram, 
but  that  would  be  the  limit  of  his  purloining.  I would  not 
fear  to  trust  them  with  all  I possess,  for  they  are  the  most 
honest  men  I have  ever  met.” 

A few  moments  after  this  he  showed  his  implicit  con- 
fidence in  these  humble  laborers  by  going  some  distance 
from  the  wharf  to  his  breakfast  and  leaving  all  the  trea- 
sure in  question  entirely  in  their  custody.  There  were  no 
guards  or  secret-service  men,  for  none  were  necessary. 

While  reflecting  on  what  I had  just  seen  and  heard,  and 
recollecting  the  train  and  bank  robberies  which  are  so  fre- 
quent in  our  own  country  and  the  necessity  that  exists 
among  us  of  armed  convoys,  when  property  of  value  is  to 
be  transported  from  one  place  to  another,  I recalled  the 
True  confession  and  protestation  in  the  hour  of  death, 
made  to  Philip  II  by  Marcio  Serra  de  Leguisano,  the  last 
of  the  conquistadores.  In  this  confession  it  is  declared 
that  “The  Incas  governed  in  such  wise  that  in  all  the  land 
neither  a thief  nor  a vicious  man,  nor  a bad,  dishonest 
woman  was  known.  Crimes  were  once  so  little  known 
among  them,  that  an  Indian  with  one  hundred  thousand 
pieces  of  gold  and  silver  in  his  house,  left  it  open,  only 
placing  a little  stick  across  the  door,  as  the  sign  that  the 
master  was  out ; and  nobody  went  in.  But  when  they  saw 
that  we  placed  locks  and  keys  on  our  doors,  they  under- 
stood that  it  was  from  fear  of  thieves,  and  when  they  saw 
that  we  had  thieves  amongst  us,  they  despised  us.”  1 

My  reflections  were  interrupted  by  the  vociferous  call 
of  the  train  conductor,  “All  aboard  for  La  Paz.”  With  a 
number  of  other  passengers,  I was  soon  seated  in  one  of 
the  old  coaches  of  which  the  train  was  composed,  and  a 
few  moments  later  we  were  out  on  the  bleak,  treeless  plain 
that  stretches  from  Lake  Titicaca  to  the  southern  part  of 
Bolivia.  We  were  now  passing  over  what  was  once  the 
bottom  of  an  immense  inland  fresh  water  sea,  with  little  in 

i Coronica  Moralzada  del  Ordem  de  San  Augustin  en  el  Peru,  Lib.  I,  Cap. 
XV,  por  Fray  Antonio  de  la  Calancha,  Barcelona,  1638. 

167 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


view  but  the  ranges  of  the  Andes  towards  the  east  and  the 
Cordillera  towards  the  west.1  As  it  was  the  winter  sea- 
son, there  was  but  little  verdure  visible.  All  was  as  dry 
and  as  desolate  as  western  Kansas  in  December,  and  there 
was  little,  outside  of  the  few  towns  and  villages,  to  enliven 
the  scene,  except  an  occasional  flock  of  sheep  or  goats,  or 
an  odd  herd  of  spotted  cattle,  that  was  trying  to  find  some 
nourishment  in  the  scattered  bunches  of  dry  grass  that 
dotted  the  arid  and  dusty  plain. 

In  the  few  towns  of  this  desolate  plateau  what  impressed 
us  most  was  the  large  and  beautiful  churches.  One  of 
them  particularly  commanded  our  admiration  on  account 
of  its  size  and  the  beauty  of  its  architecture.  How  were 
these  poor  people  ever  able  to  erect  such  a noble  structure 
in  this  desert?  I had  often  been  surprised  at  the  large  and 
beautiful  churches  that  I had  found  in  the  highlands  of 
Colombia  and  Ecuador,  but  I do  not  think  any  of  them 
ever  astonished  me  so  much  as  a certain  cathedral-like 
structure  which  suddenly  burst  upon  our  view  as  we  were 
crossing  this  inhospitable  region.  It  was  in  every  way 
far  superior  to  many  of  the  cathedrals  of  Europe. 

This  chilly  and  desolate  plateau  would  seem  to  be  the 
most  unlikely  place  in  the  world  for  legends  and  folklore, 
but  it  is,  nevertheless,  quite  rich  in  this  respect.  It  is  not, 
of  course,  comparable  with  Lake  Titicaca,  where  every 
rock  and  island  and  bay  has  one  or  more  myths  and  legends 
woven  about  it,  and  where  it  would  be  easy  for  the  lover 
of  legendary  lore  to  collect  material  for  a large  volume. 

One  of  these  legends, — or  should  it  rather  be  called  a 
tradition? — regards  the  river  Desaguadero  which  comes 
through  the  plain  to  the  southwest  of  us  and  connects  Lake 
Titicaca  with  Lake  Aullagas  a hundred  miles  further 
south. 

i In  South  America  the  terms  Andes  and  Cordillera  are  usually  employed 
indiscriminately  to  designate  both  the  eastern  and  western  ranges  of  the  vast 
mountain  chain  that  extends  from  Panama  to  Patagonia,  but  many  Peruvian 
and  Bolivian  writers  restrict  the  term  Andes  to  the  eastern  range  and  the 
epithet  Cordillera  to  the  western  or  Pacific  range. 

168 


IN  AYMARALAND 


On  the  east  shore  of  Lake  Titicaca,  near  the  present 
village  of  Carabuco,  is  a spring  of  water  known  as  the 
Saint’s  Fountain.  It  is  so  called,  so  the  story  runs,  because 
many  centuries  ago  an  extraordinary  man  of  ruddy  com- 
plexion, tall  and  with  a beard,  lived  hard  by  in  a cave. 
He  spoke  a language  quite  unlike  any  known  in  the  land 
and  proclaimed  a religion  which  was  quite  different  from 
that  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  country.  This  remarkable 
man  preached  virtue  and  taught  the  adoration  of  one  only 
God.  The  Indians  of  Carabuco,  who  were  both  corrupt 
and  ferocious,  put  to  death  his  six  disciples,  and  after 
cruelly  torturing  the  saint  himself,  they  bound  him  hand 
and  foot  and  put  him  on  a balsa  and  consigned  him  to  the 
stormy  lake  that  he  might  perish  by  hunger  or  through  the 
fury  of  the  waves. 

At  first  the  fragile  craft  was  impelled  over  the  waters 
solely  by  the  action  of  the  wind,  but  presently  there  ap- 
peared above  the  lake  a most  beautiful  woman,  attired  in 
resplendent  vesture,  with  a crown  of  stars  on  her  head, 
who  boarded  the  canoe,  and  directed  it  towards  the  south- 
west, opening  through  the  reed-covered  marsh  a channel 
which  still  exists  and  leaving  behind  a wake,  which  was 
visible  for  many  years  afterwards,  that  was  as  effulgent 
as  the  rays  of  the  sun.  When  the  balsa  reached  the  op- 
posite shore,  the  earth  made  a passage  for  it,  and  formed 
at  the  same  time  a broad,  peaceful  river  of  great  length. 
This  river  is  the  Desaguadero,  that  still  conveys  the  sur- 
plus waters  of  Lake  Titicaca  to  Lake  Aullagas,  or,  as  it  is 
also  called,  Lake  Poopo. 

This  tradition  is  interesting  because  it  is  so  like  similar 
traditions  that  obtain  in  all  parts  of  the  New  World  from 
Uruguay  to  Mexico  regarding  the  arrival  of  an  extraor- 
dinary man  in  the  remote  part,  who  preached  the  gospel 
to  the  peoples  of  the  different  countries  through  which  he 
passed.  In  Brazil  such  a tradition  is  particularly  well- 
preserved.  Before  the  arrival  of  the  missionaries  in 
Uruguay,  immediately  after  the  conquest,  the  Indians  of 

169 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


that  country  were  acquainted  with  certain  Christian  tenets 
which  they  said  they  had,  long  ages  before,  received  from 
Paz  Tume,  the  name  they  gave  to  St.  Thomas,  the 
Apostle,  who  had,  they  claimed,  evangelized  their  country. 
The  same  tradition,  according  to  the  first  missionaries, 
existed  in  Paraguay;  for,  when  they  asked  the  Indians  the 
reason  for  the  cordial  reception  they  had  given  them, 
they  replied  that  when  Paz  Tume — St.  Thomas — passed 
through  their  country  he  spoke  to  them  as  follows:  “The 
doctrine  which  I now  preach  to  you  you  will  lose  with  the 
lapse  of  time,  but  when,  after  many  years,  other  priests, 
my  successors,  shall  come  carrying  a cross  like  I do,  your 
descendants  shall  hear  the  same  doctrine  I now  preach  to 
you.”  “It  was  this  tradition,”  declares  one  of  the  mis- 
sionaries, Padre  Ruiz  de  Montoya,  “that  caused  the  In- 
dians to  receive  us  with  such  demonstrations  of  joy  and 
affection.  ’ ’ 1 

Similar  traditions  exist  respecting  St.  Bartholomew, 
who  is  represented  to  have  evangelized  several  parts  of 
South  America  at  the  same  time  as  St.  Thomas,  and 
numerous  rocks  are  pointed  out  that  are  said  to  be  marked 
by  his  footprints.  There  is  in  these  legends  an  abundance 
of  material  worthy  of  the  attention  of  the  historian  and 
the  archaeologist,  and  motifs  for  many  stories  of  deepest 
interest. 

Were  it  not  for  the  lofty  ranges  of  mountains  on  both 
sides  of  the  plateau  and  the  colossal  peaks  of  Illampu, 
Huayna-Potosi  and  Illimani,  the  scene,  as  viewed  from  the 
train,  would  be  monotonous  in  the  extreme.  Even  as  it 
was,  the  lack  of  variety  in  the  landscape  made  us  recall  a 

i Conquista  E spiritual,  hecha  por  los  Religiosos  de  la  Compania  de  Jesus 
en  las  Provincial  del  Paraguay,  Parana,  Vraguay,  y Tape,  p.  29,  por  el  Padre 
Antonio  Ruiz,  Madrid,  1639.  Compare,  An  Account  of  the  Antiquities  of 
Peru,  p.  67  et  seq.,  by  Juan  de  Santa  Cruz  Paehacute-yamqui  Salcamayhua, 
in  Narratives  of  the  Rites  and  Laws  of  the  Incas,  translated  by  Clements  R. 
Markham,  and  published  for  the  Hakluyt  Society,  London,  1873.  Piedrahita, 
in  his  Historia  del  Nuevo  Reino  de  Granada,  Part  I,  Lib.  I,  Cap.  Ill,  and 
Velasco,  Historia  de  Quito,  Tom.  I,  p.  164  et  seq.,  hold  similar  views. 


170 


IN  AYMARALAND 


statement  of  Madame  de  Stael  in  her  Dix  Annees  d’  Exit , 
wherein  she  declares  that  so  boundless  were  the  plains  of 
Russia  that  everything  is  lost  in  space — “L’etendue  fait 
tout  disparoitre,  excepte  Vetendue  meme.” 

“Though  I was  driven  with  great  rapidity,”  she  writes, 
“it  seemed  as  if  I never  advanced,  so  monotonous  is  the 
country.  I was  under  that  sort  of  delusion  which  some- 
times comes  over  us  at  night,  when  we  imagine  we  are 
going  at  a great  rate,  though  never  stirring  from  the  spot. 
I fancied  that  this  country  was  the  image  of  infinite  space 
and  that  it  would  require  eternity  to  travel  through  it. 
There  is  scarcely  any  variety  of  trees  in  it;  we  are  even 
disposed  to  regret  the  absence  of  stones,  so  weary  are  we 
sometimes  of  meeting  neither  hills  nor  valleys,  and  pro- 
ceeding on  and  on  without  seeing  any  new  objects.” 

This  impression,  however,  did  not  last  long  in  our  case. 
The  distance  from  Guaqui  to  La  Paz  is  but  little  more  than 
forty  miles,  and,  although  our  train  was  very  slow,  we 
reached  our  destination  sooner  than  we  had  anticipated. 
The  first  indication  that  we  were  nearing  the  capital  was 
the  large  and  numerous  troops  of  llamas  coming  from 
every  part  of  the  plain.  They  and  their  Indian  masters 
seemed  all  to  be  converging  towards  the  same  point  on  the 
plain  and  the  point,  too,  for  which  our  train  was  headed. 
Most  of  the  animals  were  loaded  with  products  from  gar- 
den and  field  and  were  evidently  on  their  way  to  market. 

But  where  was  the  market?  And  where  was  La  Paz? 
The  train  had  stopped  and  we  had  alighted  from  our  car, 
but  there  was  not  the  slightest  indication  of  the  nation’s 
capital  anywhere  within  the  field  of  view.  There  was  the 
same  vast  plain,  over  which  we  had  been  traveling  for 
several  hours  past,  bounded  by  the  same  mountain  bul- 
warks, from  which  arose  the  same  snow-clad  pinnacles  that 
had  so  fascinated  us  when  seen  from  the  moonlit  water  of 
Lake  Titicaca. 

In  front  of  us  was  majestic  Illimani,  whose  resplendent 
silver  crown  was  sharply  silhouetted  against  a sky  of  indigo 

171 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


blue.  The  longer  we  gazed  on  it  the  more  stupendous  it 
appeared.  It  seemed  to  move  towards  us  and  towards  the 
firmament  at  the  same  time,  and  to  increase  in  magnitude 
as  the  distance  between  it  and  ourselves  was  diminished. 
This  appearance  of  immensity  and  proximity  was  ac- 
centuated by  banks  and  banks  of  clouds  which  began  to 
circle  about  its  lofty  flanks.  Then,  by  a peculiar  optical 
illusion,  familiar  to  mountaineers,  this  giant  of  the  Andes 
seemed  suddenly  to  shoot  skywards  and  at  the  same  time  to 
menace  toppling  over  the  earth  and  burying  it  in  ruins. 
Here,  indeed,  is 

“Where  Andes,  giant  of  the  Western  Star, 

With  meteor  standard  to  the  winds  unfurled, 

Looks  from  his  throne  of  clouds  o ’er  half  the  world.  ’ ’ 

Just  then  our  attention  was  directed  to  a troop  of  llamas 
that  were  but  a short  distance  in  front  of  us.  One  by  one 
they  dropped  out  of  sight,  as  if  they  had  fallen  over  an 
invisible  precipice.  What  became  of  them?  Our  curiosity 
was  aroused  and  we  went  to  investigate.  When  we  reached 
them,  the  mystery  was  explained  at  once.  We  stood  on 
the  brink  of  a broad,  deep  quebrada — canon — and  away 
down  in  the  bottom  of  it,  fifteen  hundred  feet  below  the  po- 
sition we  occupied,  was  the  famed  city  of  Nuestra  Senora 
de  la  Paz — Our  Lady  of  Peace.1 

This  sudden  apparition  of  the  capital  of  Bolivia  was  in 
itself  an  extraordinary  experience.  It  seemed  to  be  located 
at  the  bottom  of  the  crater  of  an  immense  volcano.  It  was 
as  if  the  traveler,  standing  on  Inspiration  Point,  were  unex- 
pectedly to  find  a large  and  flourishing  city  in  the  valley  of 
the  Yosemite.  On  all  sides  but  one  it  is  surrounded  by 
precipitous  walls  of  rock  and  at  the  first  view  it  seemed  in- 

1 La  Paz  was  founded  by  Alonzo  de  Mendoza  in  1549,  by  order  of  President 
Gasca,  and  called  La  Ciudad  de  Nuestra  Senora  de  la  Poe,  to  commemorate 
the  peace  established  after  the  rebellion  of  Gonzalo  Pizarro.  In  1826  the 
name  was  changed  to  La  Paz  de  Ayacucho,  in  commemoration  of  the  great 
battle  of  Ayacucho,  which  was  the  Waterloo  of  Spanish  domination  in  Peru. 
It  is  usually,  however,  known  by  the  abbreviated  name,  La  Paz. 

172 


IN  AYMARALAND 


accessible.  But  turning  towards  the  right  we  observed  an 
old  well-beaten  bridle  path.  It  was  down  this  narrow  trail 
that  the  llamas,  that  had  so  mysteriously  disappeared  from 
our  view  a few  moments  before,  were  winding  their  way  to 
the  market.  Near  by  was  the  old  stage  route,  and  not  far 
distant  was  the  recently-constructed  electric  railway  over 
which  we  were  to  continue  our  journey  to  the  city. 

The  view  of  La  Paz  from  El  Alto — as  the  point  where 
we  stood  is  called — is  quite  unique.  No  other  city  occu- 
pies such  an  extraordinary  site,  and  one  wonders  why  the 
old  conquistadores  selected  such  a place  for  Our  Lady  of 
Peace.  It  is  true,  there  were  valuable  mines  in  the  imme- 
diate vicinity,  but  these  were  soon  all  but  exhausted.  As 
a strategic  point  against  warlike  Indians,  it  had  its  advan- 
tages at  one  time,  and  to  this  probably  was  due  the  name 
it  so  long  bore — Nuestra  Senora  de  la  Paz. 

As  we  first  saw  La  Paz  under  a bright  noonday  sun,  it 
presented  a beautiful  picture.  Its  imposing  churches  and 
convents  and  monasteries ; its  public  buildings,  grand  plaza, 
and  alameda;  its  salmon-tiled  houses  and  its  droves  of 
llamas  moving  along  the  narrow  streets,  constituted  a view 
that  once  seen  can  never  be  forgotten. 

Athens,  as  viewed  from  the  Acropolis,  Jerusalem  as  seen 
from  the  Mount  of  Olives,  are,  in  their  way,  marvelous  and 
matchless,  but  La  Paz,  with  its  extraordinary  setting  of 
multicolored  rocks,  rivaling  the  bright  hues  of  those  that 
tinge  the  famous  canon  of  the  Yellowstone,  will  always  re- 
main among  the  cities  of  the  world  as  absolutely  sui  ge- 
neris, and  as  exhibiting  certain  features  possessed  by  her- 
self alone. 

The  descent  from  El  Alto  to  the  city,  over  the  winding 
road,  where  a few  years  ago  it  was  deemed  impossible  to 
operate  a railway  of  any  kind,  was  in  itself  a delightful  ex- 
perience. 

In  the  LTnited  States  or  Europe  the  car  would  doubtless 
be  operated  by  a cable  or  a cog-track,  but  here,  by  series  of 
sharp  curves  and  a heavy  grade,  it  is  made  to  pass  between 

173 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


El  Alto  and  the  city  with  ease  and  safety,  for  both  freight 
and  passengers. 

The  population  of  La  Paz  amounts  to  nearly  sixty  thou- 
sand, of  whom  more  than  one-half  are  Indians,  mostly 
Aymaras.  The  rest  are  nearly  equally  divided  between 
whites  and  mestizos,  who  are  the  descendants  of  whites 
and  Indians. 

What  first  impresses  the  traveler  is  the  singularly  quiet 
and  orderly  character  of  the  people.  They  may  become 
very  excited  and  bellicose  in  time  of  war,  or  during  sea- 
sons of  political  agitation,  but,  at  the  time  of  my  visit,  they 
seemed  to  be  the  most  gentle  and  pacific  people  I ever 
met. 

The  Aymaras  and  cholos — half-breeds — interested  me 
immensely.  The  cholos — men  and  women — are  remarka- 
ble for  the  brilliant  colors  they  affect  in  all  their  articles 
of  clothing.  The  men  wear  caps  with  ear-laps  that  seem 
to  be  modeled  after  the  one  worn  by  Dante  in  his  Bargello 
portrait — a portrait  attributed  by  some  to  his  friend  Gi- 
otto. The  cap  is  singularly  becoming,  especially  to  boys 
and  children,  and  I could  not  rest  until  I had  secured  a num- 
ber of  them  for  some  of  my  young  friends  at  home.  All 
these  caps  are  knit  from  woolen  yarn,  and  are  usually  of 
several  flashy  colors  combined  in  the  most  extraordinary 
fashion.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  ponchos  worn  by 
the  men.  They  are  all  like  Joseph’s  coat  of  many  colors. 
Whether  the  colors  are  in  stripes  or  crossbars,  as  in  a 
Scottish  Highlander’s  plaid,  or  a Stewart  tartan,  they  are 
as  gaudy  as  the  Sunday  dress  of  a Martinique  negress. 

But  more  remarkable  still  is  the  collection  of  skirts  which 
every  chola  displays,  particularly  on  feast  days.  In  Beth- 
lehem the  young  girls  carry  their  dowry  on  their  person 
in  the  form  of  silver  and  gold  coins  used  as  ornaments. 
In  La  Paz  the  chola ’s  fortune  is  in  her  skirts,  all  of  which 
she  takes  pride  in  wearing  at  the  same  time.  It  is  said 
that  some  of  them  wear  as  many  as  twelve  or  fifteen  at 
once,  no  two  of  which  are  of  the  same  color.  The  owner 

174 


A Troop  of  Llamas. 


La  Paz,  with  Illimani  to  the  Right. 


IN  AYMARALAND 


then  demands  as  much  space  for  freedom  of  movement  as 
did  formerly  the  wearer  of  an  Elizabethan  farthingale. 

It  is  this  peculiarity  of  the  dress  of  many  of  the  people 
of  La  Paz — of  the  Aymaras  as  well  as  of  the  mestizos — 
that  gives  so  much  color  to  the  city  and  reminds  one  at 
every  turn  of  the  bright  colors  witnessed  in  Tunis  and 
Cairo.  But  in  La  Paz  the  colors  are  much  more  varied 
and  more  brilliant  than  those  of  the  Orient,  and,  although 
such  combinations  as  predominate  might  seem  disagree- 
able, the  general  effect  is  rather  grateful  to  the  eye  and 
harmonizes  perfectly  with  the  environment. 

While  walking  one  evening  in  the  Aymara  quarter  of 
La  Paz — for  I was  now  in  the  heart  of  Aymaraland,  which 
I had  for  long  years  so  eagerly  desired  to  visit — I was 
struck  by  a soft  and  plaintive  melody  sung  by  a graceful 
Indian  youth  before  the  window  of  his  dusky  young  quer- 
ida.  I at  once  suspected  that  it  was  an  Aymara  serenade 
and  so  it  was.  I there  and  then  determined  to  get  a copy 
of  the  words  that  were  sung,  which  I give  herewith,  to- 
gether with  a translation.  They  show  that  tender  senti- 
ment is  as  strongly  developed  among  the  Aymaras  as 
among  more  cultured  peoples. 

If  the  contention  of  certain  Bolivian  philologists  be 
true,  viz. : that  Aymara  is  the  language  which  was  spoken 
by  Adam,1  the  verses  here  reproduced  should  have  a spe- 
cial interest  for  the  reader,  for  it  is  not  often  that  he  or 
she  has  an  opportunity  of  examining  a specimen  of  the  lan- 
guage used  by  the  father  of  mankind  in  those  sweet  inter- 
views with  the  mother  of  the  human  race,  as  reported  by 
Milton  in  his  Paradise  Lost. 

The  words  sung  by  the  ardent  serenader  to  his  tawny 
love  were  as  follows: 

“Khallallquiri  urpilita 
Muanamamp  sipitiri, 

i La  Lenyua  de  Adan  y el  hombre  de  Tiahuanaco,  por  el  abate  Isaac  Esco- 
bari,  La  Paz,  1888. 


175 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

Llaquipair  untucuru. 

Untanamamp  laikasiri. 

Haipphu  sartir  thayanaca 
Koikotajh  aparapita, 

Chica  aruma  wuariranaca 
Kochoj  isthayarapita.  ’ ’ 

(“Thou  art  my  fluttering  dovelet; 

Thy  love  hath  me  bewitched. 

Thy  glance,  thou  lovely  birdlet, 

Hath  caught  me  in  a magic  net. 

Evening  zephyr,  bring  my  darling 
All  my  sighs  and  laments; 

Wild  nightwind,  bear  to  her  earlet 
All  my  heart-born  entreaties.”) 

I never  tired  watching  the  llamas  that,  with  their  Ay- 
mara  masters,  meet  one  at  every  step  in  La  Paz.  They  too, 
like  the  dresses  of  the  people,  are  of  many  colors — white, 
brown,  black  and  piebald.  Someone  has  described  a llama 
as  an  animal  with  the  legs  of  a deer,  the  body  of  a sheep, 
and  the  neck  and  the  head  of  a camel  of  which  in  the  words 
of  Buffon,  il  semble  etre  un  beau  diminutif.  They  are,  how- 
ever, much  more  gentle  and  docile  than  a camel,  and  far 
more  beautiful.  As  they  stand  before  one  with  their  long 
and  graceful  necks  and  their  liquid,  inquiring  eyes,  one  can 
understand  why  the  Aymara  is  so  fond  of  them,  even  aside 
from  their  value  as  beasts  of  burden  and  as  sources  of  food 
and  clothing.  Anyone  could  make  a pet  of  a llama,  espe- 
cially a young  one,  while  no  one  but  an  Arab  could  ever 
love  the  ugly,  ungainly  camel. 

The  favorite  habitat  of  the  llama  is  the  highlands  of  Bo- 
livia and  Peru.  They  are  also  found  in  Chile  and  Ecuador, 
but  in  comparatively  small  numbers.  They  are  remark- 
able as  being,  with  the  alpaca,  dog  and  cuy — a small  guinea- 
pig — the  only  domestic  animals  found  in  South  America  at 
the  time  of  the  conquest.  With  the  alpaca  and  the  vicuna, 
they  supplied  the  Incas  and  their  subjects  with  food  and 

176 


IN  AYMARALAND 


clothing,  and  served,  at  the  same  time,  as  the  only  beasts 
of  burden  then  available.  Horses,  cattle,  sheep  and  other 
domestic  animals  were  unknown  in  this  part  of  the  world 
until  their  introduction  by  the  Spaniards. 

Unlike  the  camel,  the  llama  does  not  thrive  in  a hot  cli- 
mate. But  like  its  distant  relatives  of  Asia  and  Africa,  it 
can  live  a long  time  without  water.  A camel  may  live  a 
week  or  more  without  drinking,  but  Buffon  tells  us  that  a 
llama,  “owing  to  the  great  abundance  of  saliva,  which  keeps 
the  mouth  continually  moist,”  may  live  even  longer. 

The  load  carried  by  the  llama  does  not  usually  exceed 
seventy-five  pounds.  If  he  is  overloaded,  he  files  a protest 
by  lying  down,  and  will  not  rise  until  his  burden  is  light- 
ened. The  distance  he  travels  is  not  ordinarily  more  than 
ten  or  twelve  miles  a day.  His  chief  nourishment  along 
the  way  is  the  clumps  of  ichu  grass  found  everywhere  in 
the  Andean  plateau,  as  well  as  in  the  more  elevated  puna 
or  Despoblado — unpeopled  region — of  Bolivia  and  Peru. 
The  Aymaras  and  Quichuas  are  as  much  attached  to  their 
llamas  as  are  the  Arabs  to  their  horses  and  camels.  And 
well  they  may  be,  for  without  these  beautiful  animals  their 
lot,  although  already  sufficiently  trying,  would  be  almost 
unbearable. 

Great,  however,  as  was  my  interest  in  the  llamas  them- 
selves, that  I saw  in  La  Paz,  it  was  but  secondary  to  that 
excited  by  a certain  article  of  freight  which  droves  of  them 
brought  in  from  the  eastern  slope  of  the  Andes.  This  par- 
ticular article  was  the  coca  leaf,  which  is  one  of  the  most 
valuable  of  Bolivian  products.  The  greater  portion  of  this 
precious  commodity  comes  from  the  province  of  Yungas 
in  the  department  of  La  Paz,  and  much  of  this  is  brought  to 
the  capital,  where  it  finds  a ready  market. 

It  is  from  this  coca  leaf  that  the  remarkable  alkaloid, 
cocaine,  is  extracted.  But  although  the  wonderful  phys- 
iological effects  of  coca  have  been  known  by  the  Indians 
from  time  immemorial,  it  is  only  recently  that  its  value  in 
medicine  and  surgery  has  become  generally  recognized. 

177 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Cocaine,  it  is  true,  was  extracted  from  coca  leaves  by  the 
German  chemist  Niemann  as  far  back  as  1860,  but  the  drug 
made  its  way  slowly,  and  even  to-day  there  are  many  who 
regard  it  as  more  harmful  than  beneficial. 

Cocaine,  however,  is  only  one  of  the  constituents  of  the 
coca  leaf,  and  there  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  it  is  not 
the  most  important.  Certainly,  if  all  the  wonderful  ac- 
counts that  the  people  of  the  Andean  regions  give  of  it  be 
true,  we  have  yet  much  to  learn  about  the  properties  of  the 
leaf  of  the  “divine  plant,”  as  it  was  known  among  the 
Incas. 

When  the  first  Spaniards  arrived  in  Peru,  they  heard 
such  extraordinary  stories  from  the  Indians  about  the  vir- 
tues of  coca,  that  they  were  disposed  to  regard  their  use 
of  the  leaf  as  connected  with  some  of  their  superstitious 
or  idolatrous  practices,  and  several  attempts  were  accord- 
ingly made  by  the  Spanish  authorities  to  abolish  its  use 
altogether.  The  belief  of  the  natives  that  coca  gave  them 
strength  was  denounced  as  una  ilusion  del  demonio — 
an  illusion  of  the  devil — and  the  use  of  coca  was  conse- 
quently tabooed  by  the  Spaniards  as  beneath  the  notice  of 
any  one  but  an  ignorant  savage. 

But,  notwithstanding  all  the  denunciations  hurled  against 
the  use  of  coca,  the  cultivation  of  the  plant  received  greater 
attention  from  year  to  year,  until  Garcilaso  de  la  Vega  was 
able  to  write,  “This  plant  has  been,  and  is  the  principal 
wealth  of  Peru  for  those  who  are  engaged  in  its  trade.” 
And  in  spite  of  the  strenuous  opposition  that  still  prevailed 
against  the  use  of  coca  in  many  quarters,  keen  observers 
and  broad-minded  ecclesiastics  like  Padre  Bias  Valera  and 
Padre  Jose  de  Acosta  had  the  courage  to  rise  in  its  defense 
as  a medicinal  agent,  and  declared  that  it  would  be  as  rea- 
sonable to  prohibit  the  use  of  maize,  fruit,  vegetables  and 
water  as  to  prohibit  coca,  because  all  these  things,  as  well 
as  coca,  had  been  used  in  sacrificial  worship  by  ancient 
idolaters  and  modern  wizards  and  diviners. 

Acosta  writes  as  follows:  “Their  use,”  that  of  the  In- 

178 


IN  AYMARALAND 


dians,  “is  to  carry  it  in  their  mouths,  chawing  it  and  suck- 
ing out  the  juice,  but  they  swallow  it  not.  They  say  it 
gives  them  great  courage  and  is  very  pleasing  unto  them. 
Many  grave  men  hold  this  as  a superstition  and  a mere 
imagination;  for  my  part,  and  to  speake  the  truth,  I per- 
swade  not  myselfe  that  it  is  an  imagination;  but  contrari- 
wise, I thinke  it  works  and  gives  force  and  courage  to  the 
Indians,  for  we  see  the  effects,  which  cannot  be  attributed 
to  imagination,  as  to  go  some  daies  without  meate,  but  only 
a handful  of  coca,  and  other  like  effects.”  1 

The  Spaniards,  however,  soon  found  a more  convincing 
argument  of  the  efficacy  of  coca  as  used  by  the  natives. 
They  discovered  that  the  Indian’s  capacity  for  work  was 
greatly  increased  by  the  use  of  coca;  that  the  leaf  was  not 
only  a stimulant  but  a nutritious  refreshment  to  them; 
that  if  they  wished  to  get  the  best  work  out  of  those  en- 
gaged in  the  mines  and  on  the  plantations,  it  was  necessary 
to  make  them  a regular  allowance  of  their  favorite  leaf. 

So  great  was  its  consumption  by  the  Indians  employed  in 
the  mines  of  Peru  in  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury that  Acosta  informs  us  that  “the  trafhcke  of  coca  in 
Potosi  doth  yearley  mount  to  above  half  a million  dollars, 
for  that  they  use  foure  scoure  and  tenne,  or  foure  scoure 
and  fifteen  thousand  baskets  every  yeare.  In  the  yeare 
one  thousand  and  five  hundred  eighty-three,  they  spent  a 
hundred  thousand.” 2 

Since  that  time  the  coca  industry  has  increased  until 
to-day  the  annual  production  of  Bolivia  alone  amounts  to 
seven  million  pounds.  Only  a small  proportion  of  this  is 
exported,  the  greater  part  of  it  being  consumed  by  the  In- 
dian and  mestizo  laborers  of  the  republic.  To  the  Indian  of 
the  Andean  lands  from  Chile  to  Colombia,  coca  is  what  be- 
tel is  to  the  Hindu  and  what  tobacco  is  to  the  rest  of  man- 
kind. And  it  is  more.  Not  only  is  it  a narcotic  and  a sed- 
ative, but  it  is  meat  and  drink  to  myriads  of  the  toiling 

1 Op.  cit.,  Book  IV,  Chap.  XXII. 

2 Ut.  sup. 


179 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

inhabitants  of  what  was  once  the  great  empire  of  the  In- 
cas. 

A part  of  every  Indian’s  apparel  is  his  chuspa,  or  coca- 
bag,  which  he  carries  over  his  shoulder,  suspended  at  his 
side.  In  this  bag  he  carries,  in  addition  to  coca  leaves,  a 
certain  amount  of  unslacked  lime,  or  carbonate  of  potash, 
prepared  by  burning  the  quinoa  plant.  This  is  called 
llipta,  which,  apart  from  its  chemical  action  on  the  coca 
leaves,  gives  to  them  a relish  which  the  Indian  finds  agree- 
able. 

Three  or  four  times  a day  the  Indian  suspends  labor  for 
about  a quarter  of  an  hour,  for  his  acullicar  1 — mastication 
of  coca.  With  him  it  takes  the  place  of  a smoke  with  us, 
but  the  benefits  accruing  from  it,  when  the  leaf  is  not  used 
to  excess,  are  immensely  greater.  “Each  man,”  Tschudi 
informs  us,  “consumes,  on  the  average,  between  an  ounce 
and  an  ounce  and  a half  per  day,  and  on  festival  days  about 
double  that  quantity.”  2 

The  amount  of  work  done  by  an  Indian  in  Bolivia  or 
Peru  is  in  proportion  to  the  coca  he  consumes.  The  more 
coca,  the  more  work,  and  vice  versa. 

More  singular  still  is  the  fact  that  coca  is  used  by  the 
Indian  cargueros — burden  bearers — as  a measure  of  dis- 
tance. A chew — acullico — lasts  him  about  forty  minutes, 
during  which  time  he  travels  three  kilometers  on  level 
ground  and  two  kilometers  up  hill.  The  distance  which 
he  travels  with  this  chew  is  called  a cocada.  Eight  or  ten 
minutes  after  taking  a number  of  leaves  of  his  favorite 
plant  into  his  mouth,  he  experiences  new  vigor,  or  as  he 
expresses  it,  he  is  armado.  His  average  load  is  four  arro- 
bas — one  hundred  pounds — and  the  usual  distance  he  trav- 
els each  day,  according  to  his  mode  of  reckoning,  is  from 
six  to  eight  cocadas .3 

1 This  is  the  term  employed  in  Bolivia  and  southern  Peru;  in  northern 
Peru  the  operation  is  called  chacchar. 

2 Travels  in  Peru,  p.  315,  New  York,  1854. 

3 Compare  El  Peru,  Tom.  1,  p.  69  et  seq.,  por  Antonio  Raimondi,  Lima, 
1874. 


180 


IN  AYMARALAND 


The  endurance  of  the  Indian,  and  the  feats  he  is  capable 
of  performing,  when  he  has  a liberal  supply  of  coca,  are 
truly  astonishing,  and  would  seem  incredible,  if  they  had 
not  been  verified  by  travelers  and  men  of  science  whose 
testimony  is  unquestionable.  Dr.  Jose  M.  Valdez  y Pal- 
acios, a Brazilian  traveler,  writing  of  this  matter,  declares 
that  an  Indian  with  a handful  of  roasted  corn  and  his  usual 
supply  of  coca  leaf — fohla  sagrada — as  he  terms  it,  will 
travel  a hundred  miles  afoot  and  keep  pace  with  a mule  or 
a horse.1  Dr.  Spruce  tells  us  that  the  Indian  with  a chew 
of  coca  in  his  cheek  will  travel  two  or  three  days  without 
food  or  a desire  to  sleep.  Stevenson  assures  us  that  the 
chasquis,  or  runners,  who  carry  letters  from  Lima,  travel 
upwards  of  a hundred  leagues  without  any  other  nourish- 
ment than  coca,  thus  keeping  up  the  best  traditions  of  their 
predecessors  in  the  days  of  the  Incas.  According  to  Mon- 
tesinos,  Huayna  Capac  was  able,  through  these  fleet- 
footed  chasquis,  to  eat  fish  that  had  been  caught  in  the 
Pacific  the  day  before,  although  three  hundred  miles 
distant. 

Tschudi  relates  that  he  had  a cholo  employed  in  very  la- 
borious digging  and  that  during  “five  days  and  nights  he 
never  tasted  any  food,  and  took  only  two  hours  of  sleep 
nightly.  But  at  intervals  of  two  and  a half  or  three  hours 
he  regularly  masticated  about  half  an  ounce  of  coca  leaves 
and  he  kept  an  acullico  continually  in  his  mouth.  I was 
constantly  beside  him,  and  therefore,  I had  the  opportunity 
of  closely  observing  him.  The  work  for  which  I engaged 
him  being  finished,  he  accompanied  me  on  a two  days’  jour- 
ney of  twenty-three  leagues,  across  the  level  heights. 
Though  on  foot,  he  kept  up  with  the  pace  of  my  mule,  and 
halted  only  for  the  chacchar.  On  leaving  me,  he  declared 
that  he  would  willingly  engage  himself  for  the  same  amount 
of  work,  and  that  he  would  go  through  it  without  food,  if  I 
would  but  allow  him  a sufficient  supply  of  coca.  The  vil- 

i Viagem  da  Cidade  do  Cuzco  a de  Belem  da  grao  Para,  pe  los  rios  Vilca- 
mayu,  Ucayali  e Amazonas,  Rio  Janeiro,  1844-46. 

181 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


lage  priest  assured  me  that  this  man  was  sixty-two  years 
of  age,  and  that  he  had  never  known  him  to  be  ill  in  his 
life.”  1 

From  my  own  experience  with  the  Indians  in  my  employ 
in  the  Andean  regions,  I have  no  doubt  that  the  coca  leaf, 
as  used  by  them,  contains  a powerful  nutritive  principle. 
It  is  quite  impossible,  on  any  other  assumption,  to  explain 
the  long  journeys  I have  known  them  to  make  and  their 
long-continued  toil  with  little  or  nothing  to  sustain  them 
but  a quid  of  coca  leaves. 

Relying  on  his  own  observations,  and  on  those  of  others, 
whose  testimony  is  above  suspicion,  Tschudi  concluded  that 
“The  coca  plant  must  be  considered  as  a great  blessing” 
to  the  Indian  who,  without  it,  “would  be  incapable  of  going 
through  the  labor  he  now  performs.  Setting  aside  all  ex- 
travagant and  visionary  notions  on  the  subject,  I am 
clearly  of  the  opinion  that  the  moderate  use  of  coca  is  not 
merely  innocuous,  but  that  it  may  be  very  conducive  to 
health.  In  support  of  this  conclusion,  I may  refer  to  the 
numerous  examples  of  longevity  among  Indians,  who,  al- 
most from  the  age  of  boyhood,  have  been  in  the  habit  of 
masticating  coca  three  times  a day,  and  who,  in  the  course 
of  their  lives,  have  consumed  no  less  than  two  thousand 
and  seven  hundred  pounds,  yet,  nevertheless,  enjoy  perfect 
health.2 

Such  being  the  marvelous  properties  of  the  divine  plant 
of  the  Incas,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  Indians  consider 
it  a panacea  for  all  ills,  and  that  some  of  them  entertain 
the  belief,  as  Poeppig  informs  us,3  that  if  a dying  man  can 

1 Op.  cit.,  pp.  316-317. 

2 Op.  cit.,  p.  316.  Dr.  Tschudi,  in  the  estimate  here  given,  alludes  to  in- 
dividuals who  attained  the  great  age  of  one  hundred  and  thirty  years,  which 
he  claims  is  not  singular.  “Supposing  these  Indians  to  have  begun  to  masti- 
cate coca  at  the  age  of  ten  years,  and  calculate  their  daily  consumption  at 
a minimum  of  one  ounce,  the  result  is  the  consumption  of  twenty-seven  hun- 
dred weight  in  one  hundred  and  twenty  years.” 

s Reise  in  Chile,  Peru  und  auf  dem  Amazonenstrom  wahrend  der  Jahre 
1827-32,  Vol.  II,  p.  252,  Leipzig,  1836. 


182 


IN  AYMARALAND 


appreciate  the  taste  of  coca  leaves  pressed  to  his  lips,  his 
soul  will  enter  paradise. 

Indeed,  all  that  the  Indian  or  the  man  of  science  might 
say  of  the  wonderful  virtues  of  coca  has  been  embodied 
by  the  poet  Cowley  in  the  following  verses  from  his  fifth 
Book  of  Plants: 

“Each  leaf  is  fruit,  and  such  substantial  fare, 

No  fruit  beside  to  rival  it  will  dare. 

“Our  Viracocha  first  this  coca  sent, 

Endowed  with  leaves  of  wondrous  nourishment, 

Whose  juice  succ’d  in,  and  to  the  stomach  tak’n, 

Long  hunger  long,  and  labor  can  sustain ; 

From  which  our  faint  and  weary  bodies  find 
More  succor,  more  they  cheer  the  drooping  mind, 

Than  can  your  Bacchus  and  your  Ceres  join’d.” 

I have  enlarged  somewhat  on  the  marvels  of  coca  not  only 
on  account  of  the  interest  that  attaches  to  the  plant  and  its 
past  history,  but  also  because  I think  it  is  desirable  that 
people  outside  of  the  Andean  lands  should  know  more  about 
it  than  they  do  at  present.  If  some  of  our  government 
chemists,  who  are  interested  in  pure  foods  and  drugs, 
would  devise  means  of  transporting  coca  leaves  from  South 
America,  so  that  we  of  the  north  might  have  them  with  all 
their  virtues  unchanged,  they  would  render  a distinct  serv- 
ice to  the  cause  of  humanity,  and  would,  at  the  same  time, 
furnish  a harmless  substitute  for  that  dangerous  alkaloid, 
cocaine,  whose  ravages  are  rapidly  becoming  as  widespread 
as  those  of  opium  and  morphine. 

Aside  from  its  coca,  one  of  the  most  interesting  things 
in  Bolivia  is  the  famous  silver  mountain  of  Potosi.  The 
republic  is  celebrated  for  its  mines  of  gold,  silver,  tin  and 
other  metals,  but  in  no  mineral  region  in  the  world  has 
“Nature  ever  offered  to  the  avidity  of  man  such  mines  of 
riches  as  those  of  Potosi,”  that  pretiosa  margarita  de  la 
Naturaleza,  which,  it  has  been  estimated,  has  produced 

183 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

from  two  to  four  billions  of  dollars.  According  to  Hum- 
boldt, the  amount  of  silver  yielded  by  the  Cerro  del  Potosi, 
duiing  the  first  eleven  years  after  the  discovery  of  ore  in 
it,  that  is,  from  1545  to  1556,  amounted  to  more  than  six 
hundred  million  dollars.  And  the  same  authority  also  de- 
clares in  his  Essai  Politique  sur  la  Nouvelle  Espagne  that 
this  mountain,  then  in  the  viceroyalty  of  Peru,  “has  yielded 
from  two  to  three  times  more  silver  than  all  the  collected 
mines  of  Mexico.”  1 

Although  it  may  never  be  possible  to  find  another  Cerro 
del  Potosi  in  South  America,  it  is,  nevertheless,  certain 
that  there  are  untold  fortunes  awaiting  the  prospector  in 
Bolivia  and  Peru.  The  mines  of  Cerro  de  Pasco,  Hual- 
gayoc,  and  Pulacayo,  from  which  many  hundred  million 
dollars’  worth  of  the  precious  metals  have  been  taken,  give 
some  idea  of  the  immense  treasures  still  awaiting  the  en- 
terprising miners  of  the  future.  “The  abundance  of  sil- 
ver in  the  chain  of  the  Andes,”  Humboldt  well  observes, 
“is  in  general  such  that  when  we  reflect  on  the  number  of 
mineral  depositories,  which  remain  untouched,  or  which 
have  been  very  superficially  wrought,  we  are  tempted  to  be- 
lieve that  Europeans” — and  he  might  have  added,  the  peo- 
ple of  the  United  States — “have  yet  scarcely  begun  to  en- 
joy the  inexhaustible  fund  of  wealth  contained  in  the  New 
World.” 

While  I was  examining  a splendid  edition  of  Don  Quixote 
in  a large  and  well-stocked  book-store  of  La  Paz,  I was  re- 
minded of  a fact,  not  generally  known,  respecting  a coun- 
try that  is  usually  regarded  as  illiterate.  This  is  to  the 
effect  that  the  immortal  Miguel  de  Cervantes,  in  a memorial 
to  Philip  II,  in  May,  1590,  begged  for  an  appointment  to 
one  of  the  vacant  offices  in  the  Indies,  among  which  was 
that  of  corregidor  of  La  Paz.2  If  he  had  obtained  the  verge 

1 Lib.  IV,  Chap.  XI.  In  his  "Nouvelle  Odographie  Universelle,  Vol.  XVIII, 
p.  678,  Reclus  declares  that  the  twelfth  part  of  all  the  precious  metals  in 
circulation  in  the  world  since  the  discovery  of  America  came  from  Potosi. 

2 In  his  memorial  Cervantes  prayed  the  monarch  “le  hiciese  merced  de  un 

184 


IN  AYMARALAND 


of  office  so  eagerly  desired,  would  Bolivia  now  pride  her- 
self on  being  the  cradle  of  El  Ingenioso  Hidalgo  de  la  Man- 
cha? 

Although  La  Paz  is  quite  isolated  from  the  rest  of  the 
world,  one  will  find  here  all  that  culture  and  refinement 
which  prevail  in  other  parts  of  Latin  America.  Every- 
where I went,  I had  abundant  evidence  of  this,  but  particu- 
larly at  a banquet  which  my  host,  who  was  hospitality  and 
courtesy  personified,  was  kind  enough  to  give  in  my  honor. 
A number  of  the  most  distinguished  people  of  the  city  were 
present,  among  whom  were  a goodly  proportion  of  ladies. 
I found  them  not  only  refined  and  cultured,  but  highly  edu- 
cated and  fully  abreast  with  the  intellectual  movement  of 
the  world.  Their  sympathies  were  broad  and  they  dis- 
played an  intelligent  interest  in  literature  and  science,  that 
would  have  done  credit  to  the  polished  habitues  of  a Paris 
salon.  ‘‘Their  dispositions,”  writes  an  English  traveler 
of  the  last  century,  “like  those  of  the  South  American  la- 
dies in  general,  have  been  justly  defined  as  being  a happy 
medium  between  French  vivacity  and  English  reserve. 
Their  faces  are  handsome  and  their  figures  good;  their 
carriage,  like  Spain’s  dark- glancing  daughters,  from 
whom  they  descend,  is  easy,  genteel  and  graceful,  without 
any  of  that  air  maniere,  so  much  studied  by  the  French 
ladies,  or  any  of  that  want  of  grace  so  conspicuous  in  our 
own.  ’ ’ 1 

While  listening  to  a debate  in  the  Bolivian  senate,  I was 
strongly  confirmed  in  the  view,  I have  long  entertained,  re- 
garding the  separation  of  Upper  from  Lower  Peru — that  it 
was  a grave  political  mistake.  Bolivar’s  union  of  Vene- 
zuela, New  Granada  and  Ecuador,  was,  in  my  opinion,  as 

oficio  en  las  Indias  de  los  tres  6 cuatro  que  al  presente  estan  vacos,  que  es 
el  uno  la  contadaria  del  Nuevo  Reino  de  Granada  6 la  gobernaeion  de  la 
provincia  de  Socunusco,  en  Guatemala,  6 contador  de  las  galeras  de  Carta- 
gena 6 corregidor  de  la  eiudad  de  la  Paz.”  Navarrete  Vida  de  Cervantes,  p. 
313. 

i Travels  in  Various  Parts  of  Peru,  Including  a Year’s  Residence  in  Potosi, 
by  Edmond  Temple,  Vol.  I,  p.  407,  London,  1830. 

185 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


I have  stated  elsewhere,1  for  the  best  interests  of  these 
three  countries,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  day  is  not  far 
distant  when  Greater  Colombia  can  be  reconstructed  and 
placed  on  an  enduring  foundation.  But,  making  a new  re- 
public of  Upper  Peru,  which  was  named  after  the  Liberator, 
was,  I cannot  help  thinking  it,  detrimental  to  both  Bolivia 
and  Peru.  If  they  were  united,  as  it  seems  they  should 
be,  and  could  enjoy  the  blessings  of  wise  and  enterprising 
rulers,  like  those  who,  during  recent  years,  have  guided  the 
destinies  of  Peru,  they  would,  in  virtue  of  their  geograph- 
ical position  and  their  boundless  natural  resources,  be 
second  to  no  commonwealth  in  South  America.  As  it  is, 
Bolivia  has  no  seaport  of  her  own,  and  can  have  no  commu- 
nication with  foreign  nations,  except  through  the  adjacent 
republics.  Her  territory,  owing  to  the  encroachments  of 
her  neighbors,  is  much  smaller  than  it  was  in  Bolivar’s 
time,  and  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  it  is  only  a question 
of  time  until,  like  Poland,  it  shall  be  partitioned  by  the  con- 
tiguous republics,  whose  covetous  eyes  are  ever  fixed  on 
the  inexhaustible  treasures  within  her  boundaries.  There 
are  many  far-seeing  and  patriotic  men  in  both  Bolivia  and 
Peru  who  would  gladly  forestall  such  a fate,  but  private 
interests  and  petty  jealousies  in  the  two  countries  which 
should  always  have  remained  one  and  inseparable,  have  so 
far  retarded  the  much-desired  reunion. 

In  an  interview  with  President  Montes,  I told  him  of  my 
intention  of  crossing  the  continent  by  way  of  the  Amazon, 
and  one  of  its  tributaries.  He  immediately,  to  my  surprise, 
became  intensely  interested  in  the  project.  He  spoke  most 
appreciatively  of  the  work  of  American  explorers  in  Bo- 
livia, especially  of  Gibbon,  Church  and  Heath,  and  most 
entertainingly  of  his  own  travels  in  distant  parts  of  the  re- 
public. And  then,  graciously  turning  the  conversation  to 
my  own  travels,  he  finally  said:  “I  hope  you  will  decide  to 
make  your  way  to  the  Amazon  by  one  of  our  Bolivian  riv- 

i Following  the  Conquistadores  up  the  Orinoco  and  dcncn  the  Magdalena, 
Chap.  XI. 


186 


IN  AYMARALAND 


ers.  There  are  many  of  them,  as  yon  know,  and  I am  sure 
yon  would  enjoy  a trip  down  one  of  them.  The  fauna  and 
the  flora  and  the  various  Indian  tribes,  which  you  will  see 
on  your  way,  will,  I am  convinced,  have  a special  interest 
for  you.”  And  then  he  proceeded  to  map  out  an  itinerary 
for  me. 

“If  you  wish,”  he  continued,  “to  follow  in  the  footsteps 
of  your  countryman,  Gibbon,  who  was  here  more  than  fifty 
years  ago,  you  can  go  to  Cochabamba,  a few  days’  journey 
southeast  of  here,  whence  you  can  reach  the  Madeira  either 
by  the  Beni  or  the  Mamore.  Or  if  you  desire  to  prolong 
your  journey  somewhat,  you  can  visit  the  interesting  old 
town  of  Santa  Cruz  de  la  Sierra,  which  was  founded  more 
than  three  and  a half  centuries  ago,  and  where,  by  the  way, 
there  is  a university  as  well  as  in  Cochabamba.  From  this 
place  you  can  reach  the  Mamore  by  way  of  the  Bio  Negro. 
Once  on  the  Mamore  you  will  have  easy  sailing  to  the  Falls 
of  the  Madeira,  above  San  Antonio.  Here  you  will  be  at 
home,  for,  as  you  are  aware,  your  countrymen  are  now  en- 
gaged in  constructing  a railway  around  the  falls  and  rap- 
ids, which  road  is  to  put  Bolivia  into  direct  communication 
with  the  Amazon,  and  give  an  outlet  to  the  many  products 
of  this  hitherto  undeveloped  part  of  our  country.  It  is 
singular,  but  it  is  true,  that  it  was  Lieutenant  Gibbon  who 
suggested,  more  than  half  a century  ago,  the  railroad  his 
countrymen  are  now  building,  and  which  we  hope  soon  to 
see  in  successful  operation.  Then  a trip  from  the  United 
States  to  Bolivia  or  the  reverse,  far  from  being  a painful 
journey,  as  it  is  at  present,  will  be  a delightful  excursion, — 
a great  part  of  it  through  the  most  interesting  part  of 
South  America. 

“Now,  Sr.  Doctor,”  concluded  the  President,  “if,  after 
reflection,  you  think  you  would  like  to  go  to  the  Amazon  by 
any  of  its  Bolivian  affluents,  you  may  count  on  me  to  do 
anything  in  my  power  to  make  your  journey  pleasant  and 
profitable.” 

I thanked  the  President  for  his  very  kind  offer,  but 

187 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

begged  time  for  reflection.  To  make  the  trip  indicated, 
and  under  such  very  favorable  conditions,  was  certainly 
very  tempting.  If  I had  not  restrained  myself  and  taken 
time  to  consider  the  matter,  I should  certainly  then  and 
there  have  arranged  for  my  return  home  by  way  of  the 
Mamore  and  the  Madeira.  After  more  mature  delibera- 
tion, however,  I determined  to  adhere  to  my  original  plan 
and  follow,  as  closely  as  possible,  in  the  footsteps  of  the 
conquistadores.  None  of  them  had  traveled  by  the  Ma- 
more or  Beni  or  Madeira,  and  as  a matter  of  sentiment, 
if  for  no  other  reason,  I lost  no  time  in  getting  back  to  the 
great  highways  of  the  Spanish  conquerors,  and  to  lands 
which  their  deeds  of  high  emprise  have  made  forever  mem- 
orable. Still  I did  not  wholly  abandon  the  idea  of  making 
the  journey  so  kindly  outlined  by  President  Montes.  It 
was  simply  deferred — to  be  part  of  a contemplated  trip 
through  the  heart  of  South  America  from  Caracas  to 
Buenos  Aires  by  way  of  the  Apure,  Orinoco,  Cassiquiare, 
Rio  Negro,  Madeira,  Pilcomayo  and  Parana  rivers.  This 
project,  first  conceived  at  the  mouth  of  the  Meta,  had 
grown  more  fascinating  the  more  I thought  of  it,  until  at 
last  it  became  a fixed  purpose  to  be,  Deo  volente,  sooner  or 
later  realized.1 

i See  Following  the  Conquistadores  up  the  Orinoco  and  down  the  Magdalena , 
p.  142. 


188 


CHAPTER  XI 


THE  BAALBEC  OF  THE  NEW  WORLD 

The  morning  after  my  interview  with  President  Montes 
I was  on  my  way  to  the  celebrated  ruins  of  Tiahuanaco — 
in  many  respects  the  most  extraordinary  ruins  in  the  New 
World.  Thanks  to  the  courtesy  of  the  traffic  manager  of 
the  La  Paz  railroad,  a delightful  party  was  gotten  together, 
among  whom  was  the  minister  of  public  works,  who,  hav- 
ing the  ruins  under  his  direction,  was  thoroughly  familiar 
with  them.  He  kindly  offered  to  be  our  cicerone,  in  which 
role  he  proved  most  competent  and  entertaining.  When 
we  arrived  at  the  depot,  there  was  a special  train  waiting 
for  us,  and,  on  entering  our  car  we  found,  to  our  great  sur- 
prise and  pleasure,  that  preparations  had  been  made  to 
serve  an  early  luncheon,  while  we  were  on  our  way  to  Lake 
Titicaca.  A delicious  luncheon  it  was;  but  more  delight- 
ful far  was  the  spirit  of  good  fellowship  that  dominated 
every  member  of  the  party,  and  the  constant  delicate  at- 
tentions of  our  host,  who  apparently  had  no  thought  but 
the  comfort  and  pleasure  of  his  guests. 

We  arrived  at  the  village  of  Tiahuanaco  shortly  before 
noon,  and  at  once  proceeded  to  the  ruins,  which  are  but  a 
short  half  mile  to  the  southward.  They  are  on  a broad  and 
arid  plain,  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  feet  above  Lake 
Titicaca,  from  whose  southern  shore  they  are  twelve  miles 
distant.  The  area  occupied  by  them  is  about  a square  mile 
where,  in  addition  to  a number  of  shapeless  mounds  of 
earth,  there  are  remarkable  traces  of  five  different  stone 
structures,  which  writers,  for  the  purpose  of  classification, 
have  agreed  to  call  the  fortress,  the  palace,  the  temple,  the 
sanctuary  and  the  hall  of  justice.  The  materials  used  in 

189 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

their  construction  are  trachyte,  basalt  and  red  sandstone. 
The  fortress,  to  judge  from  its  present  condition,  originally 
resembled  a Mexican  teocalli  or  the  pyramid  of  Sak- 
karah  in  Egypt,  and  must,  when  first  erected,  have  pre- 
sented a very  imposing  appearance.  It  is  a great  terraced 
mound  of  earth,  supported  by  stone  walls,  is  fifty  feet  high, 
six  hundred  and  twenty  feet  long  and  four  hundred  and 
fifty  in  width.  It  is,  however,  in  a very  dilapidated  con- 
dition owing  to  the  depredations  of  treasure-seekers  and 
to  its  being  for  centuries  used  as  a quarry,  whence  material 
was  obtained  for  buildings  in  the  neighboring  towns  for 
the  railroad  and  even  for  structures  in  La  Paz.  The 
temple  is  in  the  form  of  a rectangle,  three  hundred  and 
eighty-eight  by  four  hundred  and  forty-five  feet.  It  has 
been  very  appropriately  called  the  American  Stonehenge, 
to  which,  at  least  in  some  of  its  monoliths,  it  bears  a strik- 
ing resemblance.  The  other  three  edifices,  especially  the 
hall  of  justice,  are  likewise  remarkable  for  the  area  they 
occupy  and  for  the  cyclopean  masses  of  stone  that  still  re- 
main to  attest  the  extraordinary  character  of  their  con- 
struction. 

It  is  these  wonderful  megaliths,  rivaling  anything  found 
in  Italy,  Greece,  or  Asia  Minor,  that  have  excited  the 
astonishment  of  travelers  since  the  time  of  the  conquest. 
The  platform,  for  instance,  of  the  hall  of  justice  is  paved 
with  immense  slabs,  some  of  which  are  twenty-five  feet 
long,  fourteen  feet  broad  and  nearly  seven  feet  thick.  But 
the  most  remarkable  feature  in  these  cyclopean  structures 
is  the  great  monolithic  gateway  of  very  hard  trachyte, 
ornamented  with  numerous  well-executed  sculptures,  ap- 
parently of  a symbolical  character.  This  is  more  than 
thirteen  feet  long,  seven  feet  above  ground  and  eighteen 
inches  thick. 

Some  of  the  stones  are  in  a rough  and  unhewn  condition, 
but  most  of  them  are  cut  and  fashioned  in  the  most  re- 
markable manner.  Squier,  in  referring  to  this  feature  of 
these  extraordinary  ruins,  writes  as  follows: — “Remove 

190 


Megalithic  Ruins  of  Tiahuanaco,  Bolivia 


Portal  of  the  Pre-Incaic  Ruins  of  Tiahuanaco,  Bolivia. 


THE  BAALBEC  OF  THE  NEW  WORLD 


the  superstructures  of  the  best  built  edifices  of  our  cities, 
and  few,  if  any,  would  expose  foundations  laid  with  equal 
care,  and  none  of  them  stones  cut  with  such  accuracy. 
And  I may  say,  once  for  all,  carefully  weighing  my  words, 
that  in  no  part  of  the  world  have  I seen  stones  cut  with 
such  mathematical  precision  and  admirable  skill  as  in  Peru, 
and  in  no  part  of  Peru  are  there  any  to  surpass  those  which 
are  scattered  over  the  plain  of  Tiahuanaco.”  1 

“The  ruins  of  Tiahuanaco,”  continues  the  same  writer, 
“have  been  regarded  by  all  students  of  American  antiqui- 
ties as  in  many  respects  the  most  interesting,  important 
and  at  the  same  time  most  enigmatical  of  any  on  the  con- 
tinent. They  have  excited  the  wonder  and  admiration 
alike  of  the  earliest  and  latest  travelers,  most  of  whom, 
vanquished  in  their  attempts  to  penetrate  the  mystery  of 
their  origin,  have  been  content  to  assign  them  an  antiquity 
beyond  that  of  the  other  monuments  of  America,  and  to 
regard  them  as  the  solitary  remains  of  a civilization  that 
disappeared  before  that  of  the  Incas  began,  and  con- 
temporaneous with  that  of  Egypt  and  the  East.  Unique, 
yet  perfect  in  type  and  harmonious  in  style,  they  appear  to 
be  the  work  of  a people  who  were  thorough  masters  of  an 
architecture  which  had  no  infancy,  passed  through  no 
period  of  growth  and  of  which  we  find  no  other  examples. 
Tradition,  which  mumbles  more  or  less  intelligibly  of  the 
origin  of  many  other  American  monuments,  is  dumb  con- 
cerning these.”  2 

When  the  conquistadores  asked  the  Indians  regarding 
the  origin  of  these  wonderful  ruins,  they  were  told  that 
“they  were  made  in  a single  night  by  invisible  hands” ; that 
“they  existed  before  the  advent  of  Manco  Capac  and  his 
sister- wife,  Mama  Ocllo;”  that  Tiahuanaco  was  the  abode 

1 Peru,  Incidents  of  Travel  and  Exploration  in  the  Land  of  the  Incas,  p. 
279,  London,  1877.  The  reader,  who  is  interested  in  the  subject,  can  verify 
this  very  positive  statement  by  consulting  the  splendidly  illustrated  volume, 
entitled  Die  Ruinenstcette  von  Tiahuanaco  irn  Hochlande  des  Alten  Peru, 
von  A.  Stiibel  und  M.  Vhle,  Leipzig,  1892. 

2 Op.  cit.,  p.  274. 


191 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


of  Pachacamac,  the  Creator  of  the  Universe,  and  hence 
“the  superb  edifices,  so  worthy  of  admiration  in  that 
place”;  that  here  “the  Creator  began  to  raise  up  the  people 
and  nations  that  are  in  that  region”;  that  “here  he  gave  to 
mankind  the  languages  they  were  to  speak,  and  to  the  birds 
the  songs  they  were  to  sing;”  that  here  he  created,  as  stated 
in  the  preceding  chapter,  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  after 
which  he  ordered  them  to  go  to  the  island  of  Titicaca  and 
thence  to  rise  to  heaven. 

They  declared,  furthermore,  that  the  statues  at  Tiahuan- 
aco,  which  were  far  more  numerous  at  the  time  of  the 
conquest,  than  at  present,  were  men  and  women  whom  the 
Creator  had  changed  into  stones  for  disobedience  and  re- 
bellion.1 Others,  however,  attributed  to  them  a different 
origin.  They  said  that  the  people  of  Tiahuanaco  were  en- 
gaged in  drinking  and  dancing  when  Tonapa  Uiracocha, 
the  Apostle  of  St.  Thomas,  “came  to  preach  to  them,  and 
they  did  not  listen  to  him.  Then,  out  of  pure  anger,  he 
denounced  them  in  the  language  of  the  land;  and  when  he 
departed  from  that  place,  all  the  people  who  were  dancing 
were  turned  into  stones  as  may  be  seen  to  this  day.”  2 

The  ruins  of  Tiahuanaco  made  a deep  impression  on  the 
early  Spanish  writers,  especially  Acosta,  Cieza  de  Leon 
and  Garcilaso  de  la  Vega.  Acosta  says  he  measured  one 
of  the  great  stones  and  found  it  to  be  thirty-eight  feet  long, 
eighteen  broad  and  six  deep.  Its  weight,  therefore,  must 
have  been  about  seven  hundred  tons.  What  most  im- 
pressed Cieza  was  the  fact  that  “in  all  this  district  there 
are  no  quarries  whence  the  numerous  stones  can  have  been 
brought,  the  carrying  of  which  must  have  required  many 
people.” 

This  same  fact  has  equally  impressed  all  subsequent  in- 
vestigators. So  far  as  is  known,  there  is  no  sandstone 
similar  to  that  occurring  in  the  ruins  to  be  found  nearer 
than  fifteen  miles,  while  the  nearest  place  at  which 

1 Molina,  op.  cit.,  p.  6. 

2 Salcamayhua,  op.  cit.,  p.  73. 

192 


THE  BAALBEC  OF  THE  NEW  WORLD 


trachyte  and  basalt  can  be  procured  is  Copocabana,  which, 
in  a straight  line  across  the  lake,  is  forty  miles  distant. 

How  were  the  immense  monoliths  used  in  these  struc- 
tures transported  such  distances?  A similar  question  has 
for  centuries  been  awaiting  an  answer  regarding  the 
megalithic  monuments  of  Egypt.  How  were  the  immense 
sarcophagi  of  the  pyramids,  and  the  giant  obelisks  of  Luxor 
and  Heliopolis,  transported  from  the  quarries  of  the  Upper 
Nile  to  the  positions  they  now  occupy? 

Cieza  expressed  it  as  his  belief  that  the  ruins  of 
Tiahuanaco  are  “the  most  ancient  in  all  Peru.”  He  also 
anticipated  the  conclusions  of  modern  research  by  record- 
ing the  opinion  that  “these  edifices,  from  what  now  ap- 
pears, were  not  completed.”1  They  are  not,  therefore, 
strictly  speaking,  ruins  at  all,  but  tbe  remains  of  vast  struc- 
tures on  which,  for  some  reason  or  other,  work  was 
abandoned  before  they  were  half  finished,  as  were  some  of 
the  edifices  at  Baalbec. 

But  when,  the  reader  will  ask, — as  every  visitor  asks, — 
was  work  begun  on  the  foundations  of  these  astonishing 
structures?  By  whom?  For  what  purpose?  With  what 
tools  were  the  exceedingly  hard  masses  of  trachyte  and 
basalt  fashioned  into  the  perfect  forms  we  now  behold? 
Why  were  such  structures  projected  on  this  lofty,  bleak, 
inhospitable  plateau?  And  why,  after  so  much  was  ac- 
complished, was  the  work  left  uncompleted? 

No  satisfactory  answer  can  be  given  to  any  of  these 
questions.  Notwithstanding  the  exhaustive  researches  of 
many  of  the  most  competent  of  modern  archaeologists, 
their  conclusions  are  as  yet  nothing  more  than  mere  con- 
jectures. I shall,  therefore,  in  a few  words,  reply  to  the 
above  questions  in  the  words  of  those  who  have  made  a 
special  study  of  Peruvian  antiquities  and  whose  opinions, 
consequently,  may  be  accepted  as  the  last  word  on  “The 
ruins  of  a race  extinct.” 

i Op.  cit.,  Cap.  CV.  Cf.  M onumentos  Prehistoricos  de  Tiahuanaco,  published 
by  M.  V.  Ballivian,  La  Paz,  Bolivia,  1910. 

193 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Max  Uhle,  the  curator  of  the  archaeological  museum  in 
Lima,  and  a recognized  authority  on  Peruvian  antiquities, 
contends  that  chronology  in  Peru  is  “determined  by  cul- 
tural periods,  which  develop,  flourish  and  decay  the  same 
as  man.  In  Peru  he  finds  five  of  these  cultural  periods, 
and  assumes  them  to  have  the  same  duration — an  average 
of  about  five  hundred  years — as  have  the  cultural  periods 
of  Hallstadt,  La  Tene  and  Egypt.  Accepting  these 
premises  as  established,  his  conclusion  is  as  follows  :• 

“The  development  of  Peruvian  civilization,  accepting  the 
average  five  successive  periods,  would  result  in  a stratifi- 
cation of  cultures  representing  between  two  and  three  thou- 
sand years.  About  the  year  1000  B.  C.,  at  the  time  when 
Solomon  built  his  temple,  the  early  Americans  in  Peru 
reared  their  mighty  structures  to  the  glory  of  a creator 
god.  Civilization  in  America  would,  beyond  all  doubt,  have 
worked  itself  up  to  a high  plane  at  some  time,  and  might 
have  accomplished  alone  a peculiar  but  certainly  a brilliant 
development  without  the  intervention  of  European  civili- 
zation.” 1 

This  conclusion  seems  to  accord  in  an  extraordinary 
manner  with  the  catalogue  of  the  one  hundred  and  one 
Peruvian  monarchs,  as  given  by  Montesinos  in  his 
Memorias  Peruanas.  According  to  this  writer,  who  went 
to  Peru  a hundred  years  after  the  conquest,  and  devoted 
fifteen  years  to  travel  in  the  viceroyalty,  the  empire  of  the 
Incas  dates  back  to  4004  B.  C.,  about  five  hundred  years 
after  the  Biblical  deluge.  This  was  in  keeping  with  his 
views  that  Peru  was  the  Opliir  of  Solomon  and  that  Amer- 
ica was  peopled  from  Armenia.  If  such  be  the  antiquity 
of  the  Inca  empire,  the  western  world,  of  which  it  formed 
a part,  is  wrongly  called  the  new,  for 

. . . “This  clime  was  old 

When  first  the  Spaniard  came  in  search  of  gold.” 

i Harper’s  Magazine,  Vol.  107,  pp.  780—786,  1903.  See  in  this  connec- 
tion his  interesting  work,  Pachacamac,  Philadelphia,  1903. 

Major  Leonard  Darwin,  president  of  the  Royal  Geographical  Society,  in  a 

194 


THE  BAALBEC  OF  THE  NEW  WORLD 


As  to  the  builders  of  Tiahuanaco,  M.  L’Angrand,  after 
a careful  study  of  the  ruins  on  the  Bolivian  plateau,  and 
a comparison  of  them  with  the  monuments  of  Mexico,  Cen- 
tral America  and  Yucatan,  concludes  that  they  came  from 
the  north.  He  contends  that  the  theogonies  and  civiliza- 
tions of  the  people  of  the  south,  if  not  identical  with  those 
of  the  north,  were  so  nearly  alike  as  to  prove  unity  of 
origin.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  symbols,  revealed  by 
the  sculptures  of  Tiahuanaco,  when  compared  with  those 
employed  at  Palenque,  Uxmal,  Ococingo  and  Xochicalco. 
Such  being  the  case,  he  feels  warranted  in  concluding  that 
“The  people  who  raised  the  monuments  of  Tiahuanaco 
were  a branch  of  the  great  western  Toltec  family  of 
Nahuatl  or  California  origin.”  1 

This  view  is  favored  by  Humboldt,  Tschudi,  Middendorf 
and  many  others,  but  there  are  polygenists  like  Agassiz, 
Morton,  and  others,  who  maintain  that  the  American  In- 
dian is  autocthonous  and,  therefore,  ethnologically  in- 
dependent of  the  races  of  the  Old  World.  It  is  not  my 
purpose,  however,  to  open  up  the  vexed  question  of  the 
unity  of  the  human  species,  farther  than  to  observe  that 
there  is  as  yet  no  conclusive  evidence  against  the  tradi- 

recent  discussion  regarding  the  age  of  the  ruins  of  Tiahuanaco,  expressed 
himself  as  follows:  “Judging  by  the  age  now  generally  assigned  to  the 

pyramids  of  Egypt,  it  would  not  be  an  outrageous  supposition  to  suggest 
that  these  megalithic  remains  may  be  4,000  years  old.”  The  Geographical 
Journal,  p.  392,  London,  Oct.,  1910. 

i Lettre  sur  les  Antiquites  de  Tiaguanaco  et  VOrigine  Presumable  de  la 
plus  Ancienne  Civilization  du  Eaut-Perou,  p.  44,  Paris,  1866.  Cf.  also, 
Inwards,  R.,  Temple  of  the  Andes,  London,  1884,  and  Fouilles  Archdologiques 
A Tiahuanaco,  Paris,  1908,  par  G.  Courty  et  Adrien  de  Mortillet.  Sir 
Clements  Markham  in  his  latest  work,  The  Incas  of  Peru,  asserts  that  “The 
builders  may  best  be  described  as  a megalithic  people  in  a megalithic  age,  an 
age  when  cyclopean  stones  were  transported,  and  cyclopean  edifices  raised.” 

Answering  the  question  as  to  the  direction  whence  these  megalithic  people 
came,  he  quotes  a tradition  recorded  by  the  old  Spanish  chroniclers,  which 
points  to  the  south,  to  Charcas  and  to  countries  below  the  southern  tropics, 
as  the  sources  of  the  population  of  the  ancient  megalithic  empire,  which 
“extended  its  sway  over  the  Andean  regions  from  Tucuman  to  Chachapoyas, 
with  Tiahuanaco,  for  want  of  the  real  name,  as  its  center  of  rule  and  of 
thought,”  pp.  29,  31,  36,  New  York,  1910. 

195 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


tional  view  of  the  descent  of  all  mankind  from  a single 
pair.  Such  being  the  case  the  inference  is  that  the  build- 
ers of  Tiahuanaco  were  originally  from  the  Old  World, 
whether  from  Europe  or  Asia  is  yet  to  be  determined. 

As  to  the  purpose  of  these  structures  and  the  reason  for 
locating  them  on  an  elevated,  arid,  chilly  plateau,  where 
it  is  difficult  to  secure  subsistence  for  a large  population, 
nothing  is  known.  Any  opinion  given  on  the  subject  would 
be  idle  guesswork.  The  same  may  be  said  regarding  the 
discontinuance  of  work  on  the  buildings  before  their  com- 
pletion. Regarding  the  tools  employed  in  cutting  the  stone 
used  in  these  structures  we  are  in  almost  complete  igno- 
rance. There  is  no  evidence  whatever  that  the  builders 
had  tools  of  iron  or  steel,  and  it  is  difficult  to  understand 
how  the  hard  stones  entering  into  the  construction  of 
these  immense  edifices  could  have  been  fashioned  so  per- 
fectly by  such  primitive  tools  as  those  made  from  quartz, 
or  from  such  a soft  material  as  cliampi,  which  was  a kind 
of  bronze. 

Truth  to  tell,  everything  about  Tiahuanaco  is,  as  yet, 
veiled  in  impenetrable  mystery.  We  know  no  more  about 
the  originators  of  the  mammoth  structures  of  Tiahuanaco 
than  we  do  about  the  Mound  Builders  of  our  own  country, 
or  about  the  rude  sculptors  of  the  colossal  statues  found  on 
Easter  Island.  And  we  know  absolutely  nothing  about 
their  history,  religion  and  language. 

As  I wandered,  years  ago,  among  the  cyclopean  ruins  of 
Tiryns  and  Mycenae,  accompanied  by  an  ardent  friend  of 
old  Hellas,  my  companion  continually  gave  expression  to 
his  surprise  by  repeating  the  two  words,  “Wonderful! 
Wonderful!”  While  exploring  the  monuments  of  Tia- 
huanaco, overwhelmed  with  astonishment  at  the  magni- 
tude of  everything  around  me,  and  lost  in  the  mystery 
which  enveloped  this  city  of  departed  greatness,  I found 
myself  at  every  turn — I recollect  it  well — giving  vent  to 
my  strong  emotion  by  the  frequent  repetition  of  the  words 
“Stupendous!  Stupendous!” 

196 


THE  BAALBEC  OF  THE  NEW  WORLD 


And  these  words,  which  spontaneously  come  to  the  lips 
of  every  visitor  to  this  famous  spot,  but  feebly  articulate 
one’s  feelings  of  amazement  and  awe  when  contemplating 
the  monuments  of  Tiahuanaco,  which,  as  Desjardins  has 
truthfully  remarked,  “by  reason  of  their  character  of  re- 
ligious grandeur  and  solitary  majesty,  are  comparable  only 
with  those  of  Karnak,  Abu-Simbel  and  Luxor.” 

Commenting  on  the  ignorance,  that  in  his  time,  prevailed 
regarding  everything  pertaining  to  Tiahuanaco,  Cieza  de 
Leon,  the  Herodotus  of  Peru,  and  “The  Prince  of  Amer- 
ican Chroniclers,”  as  Jimenez  de  la  Espada  calls  him,  ex- 
presses himself  as  follows:  “Seeing  that  all  these  things 
are  hidden  from  us  we  may  well  say,  ‘Blessed  be  the  in- 
vention of  letters ! ’ by  virtue  of  which  the  memory  of 
events  endures  for  many  ages,  and  their  fame  flies  through 
the  universe.  We  are  not  ignorant  of  what  we  desire  to 
know,  when  we  hold  letters  in  our  hands.  But  in  this  new 
world  of  the  Indies,  as  they  knew  nothing  of  letters,  we 
are  in  a state  of  blindness  concerning  many  things.”  1 
But  it  is  probably  Lord  Houghton  who  best  voices  the 
thoughts  of  the  spectator  at  Tiahuanaco  in  his  poem  on 
Pelasgian  and  Cyclopean  Walls,  which  begins  as  follows: 

“Ye  cliffs  of  masonry,  enormous  piles, 

Which  no  rude  censure  of  familiar  time 
Nor  record  of  our  puny  race  defiles, 

In  dateless  mystery  ye  stand  sublime, 

Memorials  of  an  age  of  which  we  see 
Only  types  in  things  that  once  were  ye.” 

i Ut.  sup. 


197 


CHAPTER  XII 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  QUICHUAS 

The  second  morning  after  leaving  Tiahuanaco,  we  were 
again  in  Pnno  on  our  way  to  Cuzco,  the  famous  capital  of 
the  Inca  empire  and  justly  called  the  Rome  of  South 
America. 

Scarcely  had  I disembarked  from  the  steamer,  which  had 
brought  me  from  Guaqui,  when  I was  cordially  greeted  by 
the  division  superintendent  of  the  Southern  Railway  of 
Peru,  who  informed  me  that,  in  compliance  with  instruc- 
tions from  the  general  manager,  he  had  a special  train  in 
readiness  to  take  me  to  Checacupe,  the  then  end  of  the 
line  that  was  building  to  Cuzco.  “I  have  also,”  he  said, 
“ordered  breakfast  for  you,  as  I am  sure  you  must 
have  an  appetite  after  your  sail  in  the  cool,  crisp  air  of 
Lake  Titicaca.”  Then,  giving  the  train  conductor  in- 
structions to  have  everything  in  readiness,  as  soon  as 
I should  he  ready  to  start,  he  accompanied  me  to  a 
cozy  dining-room  near  by,  where  a splendid  breakfast  was 
served. 

While  there,  I met  two  young  men  from  Yale  University 
— one  a student  and  the  other  a member  of  the  faculty. 
They  had  just  come  from  Bolivia,  and,  like  myself,  were 
on  their  way  to  Cuzco.  As  soon  as  I learned  this,  I in- 
vited them  to  accompany  me  in  my  special  train — an  in- 
vitation they  were  as  glad  to  accept  as  I was  to  extend.  As 
events  proved,  it  was  a providential  meeting  for  all  three 
of  us,  for  they  were  congenial  traveling  companions,  and 
contributed  much  to  the  pleasure  of  the  journey  while  we 
were  together. 

After  being  the  recipient  of  numerous  delicate  attentions 

198 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  QUICHUAS 

from  the  courteous  superintendent  and  his  obliging  assist- 
ants, I was  finally  able  to  board  the  train  with  my  young 
countrymen,  and,  while  the  railway  officials  were  yet  bid- 
ding us  God-speed,  we  were  on  our  way  to  the  City  of  the 
Sun,  and  following  the  same  course  as  had  been  taken  by 
Manco  Capac  and  Mama  Ocllo  nearly  a thousand  years  be- 
fore. 

To  one  who  loves  the  romance  of  history  and  is  fond  of 
legendary  lore,  the  narrow  strip  of  territory  extending 
from  Tiahuanaco  to  Cuzco  has  an  interest  and  a charm  not 
possessed  by  any  other  region  in  the  New  World.  In  it 
are  found  the  most  remarkable  monuments  of  South  Amer- 
ica, and  about  them  are  gathered  the  most  cherished  tradi- 
tions of  the  two  most  remarkable  indigenous  peoples  of  the 
southern  continent.  We  have  learned  something  regarding 
the  marvelous  ruins  of  Titicaca,  Coati  and  Tiahuanaco, 
but  there  are  others  equally  worthy  of  attentive  study,  all 
the  way  from  the  northern  shore  of  Lake  Titicaca  to 
Ollantaytambo  in  the  lovely  valley  of  Yucay,  the  most  beau- 
tiful, probably,  in  all  Peru. 

Two  of  the  most  interesting  places  in  the  southern  part 
of  the  belt  between  Lake  Titicaca  and  the  valley  of  Cuzco, 
are  Lake  Umayo,  about  ten  miles  towards  the  west  of  the 
railroad,  and  Azangaro,  nearly  the  same  distance  towards 
the  east. 

Lake  Umayo  is  celebrated  for  the  large  number  of  ruins 
around  it  and  especially  for  the  wonderful  necropolis  of 
Sillustani,  where  are  found  some  of  the  most  imposing 
and  best  preserved  monuments  in  the  Collao.1  Here  are 
hundreds  of  them,  sometimes  standing  alone  and  some- 
times in  groups.  They  are  called  chulpas,  are  circular  in 
form,  and  are  usually  constructed  of  large  blocks  of 
trachyte  or  basalt.  Some  of  them  are  of  very  elaborate 
workmanship  and  measure  sixteen  feet  in  diameter  and 
forty  feet  in  height.  They  remind  one  of  certain  Pelasgic 

i The  name  given  to  the  country  surrounding  Lake  Titicaca,  formerly 
inhabited  by  people  called  Collas. 


199 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

j 

towers  in  Italy,  and  the  domes  surmounting  them  are  not 
unlike  the  topes  and  dagobas  of  India  and  Ceylon. 

According  to  Squier,  these  very  remarkable  monuments 
are  Aymara  tombs  and  have  a great  antiquity.1  Near 
these  chulpas  are  other  ancient  remains  so  like  the  sun 
circles,  or  Druidical  circles,  of  England  and  Northern 
Europe,  that  they  would  almost  seem  to  have  had  a similar 
origin. 

The  town  of  Azangaro  is  famous  for  the  decorations  of 
its  church  and  for  a portion  of  an  old  house  called  Sondor- 
huasi,  that  dates  back  to  the  time  of  the  Incas.  The  im- 
portance of  this  house,  from  an  antiquarian  point  of  view, 
is  due  to  the  fact  that  it  still  retains  its  original  thatched 
roof, — the  only  one  now  remaining  in  Peru, — of  ichu  grass 
— stipa  ichu — which  was  doubtless  the  roofing  material  of 
the  rich  Inca  palaces  of  Peru.  It  seems  incredible  that 
such  a roof  should  endure  for  centuries,  as  this  one  has, 
but  there  it  stands,  unless  recently  removed,  as  an  instance 
of  the  adaptation  of  most  perishable  material  for  age-long 
use,  and  as  a solitary  specimen  of  that  astonishing  work- 
manship which  has,  in  so  many  other  respects,  distinguished 
the  structures  and  the  enterprises  of  the  Incas. 

Aside  from  the  interest  which  attaches  to  Azangaro,  on 
account  of  its  church  and  Sondor-huasi,  it  is  celebrated  in 
Peru  as  being,  par  excellence,  the  city  of  hidden  treasure. 
Tradition  has  it  that  when  the  Indians  were  transporting 
gold  and  silver  to  Cajamarca  for  the  ransom  of  Atahualpa 
they  received  news  of  his  death  on  their  arrival  at  Sicuani, 
and  that,  in  compliance  with  orders  from  Inca  Manco,  then 
at  Cuzco,  to  conceal  the  treasure,  they  buried  it  somewhere 
near  Azangaro.  Its  value  is  usually  estimated  at  seven 
million  dollars.  Besides  this  immense  treasure,  it  is  said 
that  fifteen  mule-loads  of  church  plate  were  brought  here 

i Bandelier  contends  that  these  chulpas  were  not  tombs,  but  storehouses. 
See  his  article  on  The  Aboriginal  Ruins  of  Sillustani,  Peru,  in  the  American 
Anthropologist,  January-March,  1905.  Von  Tschudi  and  others  considered 
them  to  be  dwelling  places  and  parts  of  fortresses. 


200 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  QUICHUAS 

in  1781  by  Diego  Tnpac  Amaru,  and  hidden  somewhere  in 
the  town,  or  in  its  immediate  vicinity.  Some  of  the  In- 
dians are  credited  with  knowing  where  the  treasures  are 
buried,  but  if  so,  they  are  unwilling  to  divulge  the  secret. 
Many  attempts  have  been  made  to  locate  them,  but  so  far, 
without  result. 

Antiquities,  however,  are  not  the  only  objects  to  claim 
the  attention  of  the  traveler  on  the  way  from  Puno  to 
Cuzco.  There  are  first  of  all  the  people,  mostly  Aymara 
and  Quichua  Indians.  All  along  the  road  one  will  see 
numerous  towns  and  villages,  and  many  extensive 
haciendas,  on  which  range  immense  herds  of  cattle  and 
flocks  of  alpaca  sheep.  This  is,  indeed,  the  favorite  home 
of  these  latter  animals.  The  sheep  and  the  cattle  are  often 
in  the  care  of  pretty  little  shepherdesses  and  vaqueras — 
cow-girls — who,  in  spite  of  their  desolate  surroundings, 
seem  to  be  pictures  of  health  and  contentment. 

One  of  these  graceful  vaqueras,  seated  on  a rock  han- 
dling a distaff  or  playing  the  pincullu — Indian  flute — while 
watching  the  grazing  kine,  would  be  an  ideal  subject  for 
the  brush  of  a Millet,  a Mauve  or  a Poggenbeek.  Of  such 
an  Andean  maiden,  in  her  gay-colored  dress,  in  the  glow  of 
youthful  vigor  and  beauty,  one  could  truly  say : 

“La  vi  tan  fermosa 
Que  apenas  creyera 
Que  fuese  vaquera 
De  la  Finojosa.  ” 

So  cold  is  the  climate  of  this  elevated  tableland  that  the 
soil  yields  but  little  for  the  support  of  its  inhabitants,  ex- 
cept barley,  quinoa,  oca,  a certain  variety  of  bean,  and 
potatoes.  In  sheltered  places  maize  is  grown,  but  it  is  a 
very  inferior  product.  Many  of  the  vegetables  of  our 
northern  zone  might  be  cultivated  here,  but  the  Indians 
in  this  part  of  the  world  are  as  averse  to  innovations  as 
are  the  inhabitants  of  Syria  or  Mesopotamia.  The  cab- 
bage and  similar  vegetables  would  flourish  here,  but 

201 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


they  are  rarely  seen,  at  least  in  the  gardens  of  the  In- 
dians. 

The  principal  article  of  food  among  the  natives  of  the 
highlands  of  Peru  and  Bolivia  is  the  potato.  In  order  to 
preserve  it,  and  render  it  more  palatable  than  it  usually 
is  in  its  natural  state,  it  is  frozen  and  dried,  in  which  con- 
dition it  is  known  as  chuno.  Boiled  with  vegetables  and 
fragments  of  meat  and  fish,  and  seasoned  with  salt  and  aji 
— red  pepper — it  constitutes  chupe — the  staff  of  life  of  the 
serranos — mountaineers.  At  times,  it  is  the  only  kind  of 
food  obtainable  among  the  poorer  classes  of  the  inhab- 
itants. Surprise  is  sometimes  manifested  that  these  peo- 
ple should  be  able  to  subsist  on  such  a diet,  with  little  or 
no  change  from  one  year’s  end  to  the  other,  but  there  is 
nothing  more  remarkable  about  it  than  the  unvarying  rice 
diet  of  the  Chinese  coolie,  or  the  never-changing  macaroni 
of  the  Neapolitan  lazzarone. 

After  the  train  leaves  Puno,  there  is  a gradual  ascent 
until  it  reaches  La  Raya,  fourteen  thousand  feet  above  sea 
level,  on  the  summit  of  a knot,  or  ridge,  which  connects  the 
eastern  with  the  western  Cordillera.  Here  is  the  water- 
shed between  the  closed  basin  of  Lake  Titicaca  and  the 
incomparably  greater  basin  of  the  Amazon. 

Here,  too,  is  the  dividing  line  between  the  Aymaras  and 
the  Quichuas.  And  so  marked  is  it  that  one  immediately 
recognizes  it  by  the  difference  in  the  costumes  of  the  peo- 
ple, especially  those  of  the  women.  Here  the  uncu,  a gar- 
ment secured  by  two  tupus — pins  with  a spoon-like  head — 
and  the  curiously-shaped  headgear  of  the  Aymara  woman 
give  place  to  the  short  woolen  skirt,  the  bright-colored 
llicla,  or  mantle,  secured  over  the  shoulders  with  one  tupu, 
and  the  gayly-beribboned  montero — a black  broad-brimmed 
hat — of  her  Quichua  sister. 

But  what  interested  me  more  than  anything  else  at  La 
Raya  was  the  black  water  tarn  that  is  the  source  of  the 
Rio  Vilcamayo,  which,  under  the  successive  names  of 
Yucay,  Urubamba  and  Ucayali,  constitutes  the  parent 

202 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  QUICHUAS 

stream  of  the  mighty  Amazon.  I know  this  claim  is 
usually  made  for  the  Maranon,  whose  source  is  Lauri- 
cocha,  but  many  authorities,  and  I believe  their  number 
is  increasing,  incline  to  the  belief  that  the  Amazon  has  its 
birth  in  this  modest  lakelet  which  is  fed  by  the  glaciers 
of  the  overshadowing  ranges  of  Vilcanota  and  Santa  Rosa. 
Without,  however,  entering  into  a discussion  of  the  case, 
which  would  be  more  or  less  futile,  it  will  suffice  to  state 
that  my  companions  and  I agreed,  at  least  for  the  time 
being,  to  consider  the  claims  of  the  Vilcamayo  as  well 
founded.  The  train  was  accordingly  stopped  at  this  point 
to  give  us  an  opportunity  of  examining  the  head  waters 
of  the  world’s  greatest  river,  and  of  taking  a few  photo- 
graphs of  the  spot  where  they  well  forth  to  the  earth’s 
surface. 

At  this  same  point  we  have  not  only  the  fountain  head  of 
the  Amazon,  but  also  that  of  the  Rio  de  Pucara,  which 
empties  its  waters  into  Lake  Titicaca.  A slight  breeze, 
that  was  then  blowing,  seemed  to  determine  the  flow  of 
water  in  one  direction  rather  than  in  the  other,  and  one 
of  our  photographs  was  taken  at  the  exact  spot  whence  the 
waters  start  in  opposite  directions — part  towards  the  south 
and  part  towards  the  north.  I had  witnessed  similar 
places  in  other  parts  of  the  Cordilleras,  but  none  of  them 
impressed  me  so  much  as  this  one,  four  thousand  miles 
from  the  mouth  of  the  great  river  which  here  has  its  start- 
ing point  in  its  wonderful  course  across  the  continent. 

Had  I not  wished  to  visit  other  parts  of  Peru  rendered 
famous  by  the  conquistadores,  I think  I should  have  de- 
cided there  and  then  to  explore  the  Amazon  from  its  birth- 
place, La  Raya,  to  the  broad  embouchure  where  it  greets 
the  deep  blue  waters  of  the  Atlantic.  The  temptation  to 
make  the  trip  was  great,  indeed,  and  it  required  a special 
exercise  of  will-power  to  resist  it. 

When  in  Quito  I had  been  tempted  to  follow  Orellana 
down  the  Napo,  but  that  journey  had  been  made  so  many 
hundreds  of  times,  since  the  Spanish  adventurer’s  memo- 

203 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


rable  exploit,  by  the  zealous  missionaries  who  evangelized 
the  natives  from  Quito  to  the  Amazon,  as  well  as  by  recent 
explorers  who  have  left  us  an  account  of  their  wanderings, 
that  I did  not  find  it  difficult  to  forego  a trip  that,  under 
other  circumstances,  would  have  appealed  to  me  very 
strongly.  How  I was  almost  persuaded  by  the  president 
of  Bolivia  to  journey  to  the  Amazon  by  the  way  of  the 
Mamore  and  Madeira,  I have  already  recounted.  There, 
moreover,  was  the  same  objection  to  reaching  the  Amazon 
by  the  Vilcamayo  and  the  Ucayali  as  by  the  Mamore  and 
the  Madeira.  None  of  these  rivers  had  been  witnesses  of 
the  deeds  of  prowess  of  the  conquistadores,  as  had  some 
of  the  other  tributaries  of  the  Amazon,  and  this  fact,  aside 
from  any  other  consideration,  sufficed  to  reconcile  me  to 
what  would  otherwise  have  been  a very  great  sacrifice. 

The  scenery  along  the  Vilcamayo  is,  in  certain  stretches, 
wild  and  picturesque  in  the  extreme.  In  places  it  rivals, 
if  it  does  not  surpass,  anything  seen  in  Switzerland  or  in 
the  Tyrol.  The  lofty  snow-capped  range  to  the  east,  with 
its  broad  glacier  fields  high  up  in  cloudland,  and  its  im- 
mense terminal  morains  far  below  the  line  of  perpetual 
snow,  are  sure  to  command  the  attention  of  the  most 
casual  observer.  For  the  lover  of  mountains,  however,  and 
for  the  student  of  physical  and  geological  phenomena, 
where  Nature  operates  on  so  stupendous  a scale,  there  is 
an  added  interest  that  never  flags.  Here  one  can  witness 
the  glaciers  corroding  and  planing  down,  slowly  but  surely, 
those  giant  Cordilleras  produced  by  Titanic  agencies  aeons 
ago  and  watch  how  the  detritus,  formed  by  the  grinding 
ice-rivers  above,  is  carried  to  the  lowlands  thousands  of 
miles  distant  to  fertilize  and  build  up  what  is  yet  in  many 
respects  but  an  unfinished  continent. 

The  sun  was  beginning  to  gild  the  crest  of  the  western 
Cordillera  when  we  reached  Checacupe,  the  terminus  of 
the  line  at  the  time  of  our  visit.  In  some  way  or  other  it 
had  become  known  that  a special  train  was  coming,  and 
a large  crowd  had  gathered  at  the  depot,  in  which,  con- 

204 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  QUICHUAS 

spicuous  by  their  peculiar  somber  dress,  consisting  of 
black  trousers,  dark-colored  ponchos,  and  broad-brimmed, 
black  felt  hats  and  usutas,  or  sandals  of  llama-skin,  were 
a number  of  Indian  alcaldes,  each  with  his  staff  of  office. 
This  staff  resembles  a long  cane,  and  has  a brass  or  silver 
head  and  ferule  and  a number  of  rings  around  it,  one  for 
each  year  the  owner  has  held  office.  The  Indian  is  very 
proud  of  this  staff  and  always  carries  it  with  him  when 
he  appears  in  public.  My  companions  tried  to  purchase  a 
couple  of  them  from  the  alcaldes  present,  but  they  soon 
discovered  that  there  are  some  things  that  money  cannot 
buy — among  them  the  Indian’s  much-prized  insignia  of 
office. 

I had  scarcely  stepped  from  the  train  when  I was  most 

cordially  greeted  by  Mr.  Me , the  chief  engineer  of  the 

railroad,  who  told  me  that  he  had  come  to  claim  me  as  his 

guest  while  I was  in  Checacupe.  “Mr.  T ,”  he  said, 

“telegraphed  me  this  morning  from  La  Paz  that  you  were 
coming;  and  I cannot  tell  you  how  glad  I am  to  meet  you. 
I am  an  American  myself — from  Missouri — and  I am  al- 
ways pleased  to  see  any  one  of  my  countrymen,  who  so 
rarely  visit  this  little  frequented  part  of  the  world,  but  I 

am  specially  glad  to  welcome  a friend  of  Mr.  T and 

Mr.  A ,”  from  whom  I bore  a letter  of  introduction. 

“They  are  the  salt  of  the  earth, — both  of  them.” 

Shortly  after  reaching  Mr.  Me ’s  home,  dinner  was 

served,  during  which  I was  entertained  by  my  genial  host 
with  an  account  of  the  work  on  the  railroad  which,  it  was 
hoped,  would  soon  be  completed  to  Cuzco. 

“I  now  have  fifteen  hundred  Indians  on  the  pay-roll,” 
he  said,  in  answer  to  my  request  for  information  regard- 
ing the  men  in  his  employ,  “and  I expect  to  have  three 
thousand  next  week.  All  able-bodied  Indians  in  this  part 
of  the  country  are  obliged  by  the  government  to  work  on 
the  road  from  fifteen  to  thirty  days.  For  their  service 
they  receive  fifty  cents  a day  in  silver — the  equivalent  of 
about  half  that  sum  in  gold.  If  it  were  not  for  this  corn- 

205 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


pulsory  service,  it  would  be  difficult  for  us  to  find  the 
laborers  necessary  for  our  work.  Those  who  voluntarily 
continue  in  our  employment,  after  their  term  of  enforced 
service  has  expired — only  about  ten  per  cent,  of  them  do 
so — receive  an  increase  in  salary,  for  they  are,  as  a rule, 
better  workmen  than  the  others.  These  are  paid  from 
sixty  to  seventy-five  cents  a day  in  silver.  Each  peon  re- 
moves about  three  cubic  yards  of  earth  a day,  about  one- 
third  or  one-fourth  the  amount  that  could  be  disposed  of 
by  one  of  our  American  workmen.  The  cost  per  yard, 
however,  is  less  here  than  in  the  United  States  by  reason 
of  the  much  lower  daily  wage.  The  Indian  supplies  his 
own  provisions,  which  consist  chiefly  of  chuno  and  coca 
leaves 

The  mention  of  coca  leaves  as  an  aliment  led  me  to  ask 
my  host,  who  was  a man  of  unusual  intelligence  and  in- 
formation, how  he  explained  the  trepanning  as  performed 
by  the  ancient  Peruvians  who  were  ignorant  of  the  use  of 
iron  and  steel,  and  who,  consequently,  must  have  employed 
the  most  primitive  instruments  for  this  delicate  and  pain- 
ful operation,  when  the  use  of  anaesthetics  was  unknown. 

“I  am  not  so  sure,”  replied  my  host,  “that  the  Chil- 
dren of  the  Sun  were  ignorant  of  anaesthetics.  And  as- 
suming that  they  used  an  anaesthetic  of  some  kind,  which 
to  me  seems  beyond  doubt,  a sharp  piece  of  flint  or  obsid- 
ian might  have  sufficed  for  their  rude  attempts  at  surgery. 

“A  remarkable  case,  bearing  on  this  subject,  came  under 
my  observation  only  a few  days  ago.  It  is,  indeed,  so  re- 
markable that  it  seems  incredible,  and,  had  I not  been  my- 
self an  eyewitness  of  the  case,  I should  hesitate  to  believe 
it. 

“One  of  our  peons  was  run  over  by  a car  and  had  his 
foot  amputated.  He  was  immediately  taken  to  the  depot 
to  await  the  company’s  surgeon,  who  came  without  delay. 
But  when  he  arrived  the  Indian  was  gone.  After  search- 
ing for  him,  he  was  found  in  the  plaza  near  by,  apparently 
as  apathetic,  so  far  as  pain  was  concerned,  as  if  nothing 

206 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  QUICHUAS 

had  happened.  He  had  tied  a rag  around  his  ankle  to 
stanch  the  flow  of  blood,  and  had  made  his  way  unaided 
and  alone  from  the  depot  to  the  plaza  of  the  town,  near 
which  we  were  then  working.  He  declared  that  he  expe- 
rienced no  pain  whatever,  a statement  that  astonished  all 
of  us  beyond  measure. 

“On  investigation  we  learned  that  he  was  a coquero — 
a habitual  user  of  coca — and  we  then  inferred  that,  in  con- 
sequence of  this  habitual,  if  not  excessive  use  of  this 
anaesthetic,  his  sensory  nerves  had  become  insensible  to 
pain.  If  our  conclusion,  and  it  seems  justified,  was  cor- 
rect, it  serves  to  explain  how  trepanning  might  have  been 
performed  in  the  time  of  the  Incas  with  a total  absence  of 
pain  on  the  part  of  the  patient.  I can  vouch  for  the  truth 
of  the  incident  I have  narrated.  I leave  it  to  specialists 
in  surgery  to  draw  their  own  conclusions.  As  for  myself, 
I am  convinced  that  the  coca  leaf  among  the  ancient  Peru- 
vians served  the  same  purpose  as  the  various  anaesthetics 
which  are  now  employed  in  modern  surgery.” 

I refer  to  this  remarkable  incident,  as  I heard  it  from 
the  lips  of  my  host,  for  it  seems  to  clear  up  a difficulty 
that  has  long  confronted  writers  who  have  discussed  the 
question  of  prehistoric  trepanning  in  Peru.  The  conclu- 
sion seems  warranted,  but  this  is  not  the  place  to  do  more 
than  call  attention  to  the  incident  in  question.  Relata 
refero.1 

i For  an  elaborate  discussion  of  this  curious  subject  the  reader  is  referred 
to  a contribution  entitled  Primitive  Trephining  in  Peru  in  the  Sixteenth 
Annual  Report  of  the  Bureau  of  American  Ethnology  to  the  Secretary  of  the 
Smithsonian  Institution,  189^-1895,  by  Manuel  Antonio  Muniz,  M.D.,  and 
W.  J.  McGee.  From  an  examination  of  a trephined  skull  taken  from  an 
Inca  cemetery,  Dr.  Paul  Broca,  the  noted  anthropologist,  concluded  that 
“there  was  in  Peru,  before  the  European  epoch,  an  advanced  surgery.”  In 
an  interesting  paper  by  A.  Bandelier  entitled  Veber  Trepanieren  unter  den 
heutigen  lndianern  Bolivias,  and  read  before  the  International  Congress  of 
Americanists  at  Stuttgart  in  1904,  the  author  declares  that  trephining  is 
still  practiced  in  Bolivia  by  the  Callahuayas — Medicine  Men — among  the 
Aymaras,  and  that  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  it  is  still  practiced  by  the 
Quichuas  of  Peru.  The  operation  is  performed  with  the  rudest  kind  of  instru- 
ments— a penknife,  a chisel  or  a piece  of  obsidian.  So  far  I have  been 

207 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Although  Checacupe  is  only  a small  mountain  town  of 
about  fifteen  hundred  inhabitants,  and  in  no  wise  different 
from  other  towns  on  the  plateau,  it,  nevertheless,  possessed 
a special  interest  for  me  because  of  its  history.  It  was  here 
that  the  ill-fated  Tupac  Amaru — the  heroic  Inca  chief — 
in  1781  made  his  last  effort  to  redress  the  grievances 
of  his  people,  and  it  was  near  this  place  that  he  was  be- 
trayed into  the  hands  of  the  Spaniards,  who  put  him  and 
his  family  and  sympathizers  to  a cruel  and  ignominious 
death.  The  Inca’s  execution  sounded  the  death  knell  of 
the  hopes  and  aspirations  of  his  countrymen,  but  his  death 
was  not  in  vain.  In  consequence  of  his  attempt  to 
ameliorate  the  condition  of  his  race,  and  the  constant 
menace  that  existed  of  a similar  uprising  in  other  parts  of 
the  viceroyalty,  new  laws  were  enacted  looking  to  the  re- 
lief of  the  Indians,  who  had  in  many  places  been  treated 
as  serfs,  who  had  no  rights  that  anyone  was  obliged  to  re- 
spect. But  the  iniquitous  deed  was  committed  and 
Tupac  Amaru’s  betrayal  and  execution  will  forever  remain 
a foul  blot  on  the  annals  of  the  colonial  government  of 
Peru. 

The  distance  from  Checacupe  to  Cuzco  is  sixty-three 
miles,  but,  thanks  to  the  splendid  road  between  the  two 
places,  and  the  good  mules  placed  at  our  disposition,  we 
were  able  to  traverse  this  distance  in  one  day.  The  road — 
carretera  it  is  called  here — was  constructed  some  years 
ago  by  an  enterprising  Irishman,  and  is  one  of  the  best 
in  Peru.  A number  of  American  stage-coaches  were,  at 
the  time  of  our  visit,  used  for  the  transportation  of  pas- 
sengers, while  several  traction  engines  and  cars  were  em- 
ployed for  carrying  freight.  These  vehicles,  however,  have 
been  discarded  since  the  completion  of  the  railroad  which, 
for  a part  of  the  distance,  follows  the  course  of  the 
carretera. 

unable  to  find  any  account  of  trephining  in  the  early  chroniclers.  That  they 
should  have  passed  over  in  silence  an  operation  that  was  as  common  as  it  was 
remarkable  seems  extraordinary. 


208 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  QUICHUAS 


Through  the  kindness  of  my  host,  our  journey  from 
Checacupe  to  the  old  Inca  capital  was  made  in  a comfort- 
able surrey  from  Cincinnati.  It  may  be  imagination,  but 
the  fact  that  we  were  able  to  make  the  trip  in  a vehicle 
from  the  land  of  the  Stars  and  Stripes  seemed  to  enhance 
the  pleasure  of  a day  that  for  all  of  our  party  will  ever  be 
memorable. 

The  weather  was  ideal,  and  the  country  through  which 
we  passed,  with  all  its  marvelous  scenery,  its  interesting 
traditions  and  historical  associations,  was  such  that  we  at 
times  felt  that  we  were  in  a land  of  romance  and  enchant- 
ment. There  is,  indeed,  no  stretch  of  territory  in  the  New 
World  that  possesses  for  the  student  and  the  historian  so 
many  objects  of  interest,  so  much  to  arrest  one’s  attention 
at  every  turn,  as  the  narrow  belt  between  Tiahuanaco  and 
Cuzco.  And  the  nearer  one  approaches  the  famous  old 
capital  of  the  Children  of  the  Sun  the  more  one  feels  under 
the  spell  of  the  past  glories  of  the  great  empire  of 
Tahuantin-suyo.1 

When  we  left  Checacupe,  which  was  shortly  after  sun- 
rise, the  atmosphere  was  so  chilly  that,  in  order  to  keep 
warm,  we  were  obliged  not  only  to  wear  overcoats,  but  also 
to  use  heavy  lap-robes  in  addition.  It  was  not,  however, 
long  before  the  beneficent  lord  of  the  day  took  the  frost 
out  of  the  air  and  then  it  became  as  balmy  and  delightful 
as  a May  morning  in  the  Italian  Riviera.  It  was  not  then 
difficult  to  understand  why  the  Incas  of  old  worshiped  the 
sun  and  why  they  acknowledged  him  as  their  chiefest  bene- 
factor. It  was,  as  Markham  well  expresses  it,  because 
“Yuti,  the  Sun,  was  to  them  the  soul  of  the  universe,  the 
fountain  whence  flowed  the  blessings  they  enjoyed,  the 
ripener  of  their  harvests,  the  cheering  watcher  of  their 
labors,  the  producer  of  their  beautiful  flowers,  and  the 

i This  word  in  Quichua  signifies  the  four  parts  of  the  world,  and  was  used 
to  designate  the  empire  of  the  Incas.  In  Aymara  the  same  word  means, 
the  region  of  the  four  Andes,  which  constituted  the  boundaries  of  the  Inca 
empire. 


209 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


progenitor  of  their  beloved  Inca.”1  It  was  for  the  same 
reason  that  prompted  the  people  of  the  coast  land  to  wor- 
ship Mamacocha — Mother  Sea — for  it  was  the  prolific 
ocean  that  supplied  them  with  food,  as  it  was  the  fostering 
sun  that  made  vegetation  and  life  possible  on  the  high- 
lands. 

This  idea  is  expressed  in  characteristic  Indian  fashion 
in  the  reply  sent  by  the  Cliinchas  to  the  demand  that  they 
yield  obedience  to  the  Inca  Pacliacutec,  child  of  the  Sun. 
Their  answer  was,  “That  they  neither  wanted  the  Inca 
for  their  lord,  nor  the  sun  for  their  god;  that  they  already 
possessed  a lord  to  serve,  and  gods  to  worship;  that  their 
common  god  was  the  sea,  which  anyone  could  see  was  a 
greater  thing  than  the  sun,  for  that  it  yielded  them  plenty 
of  fish,  while  the  sun  did  them  no  good  at  all,  but  rather 
annoyed  them  by  its  excessive  heat;  that  their  land  was 
warm  and  had  no  need  of  the  sun,  whilst  those  in  the 
sierra,  where  the  country  is  cold,  might  all  worship  it,  as 
they  needed  its  heat.  As  for  a king,  they  said  they  had  one 
sprung  from  a family  of  their  own  land,  and  that  they  did 
not  want  a stranger,  even  if  he  was  a child  of  the  sun,  for 
they  had  no  need  either  of  the  sun  or  of  his  children.”  2 

After  a delightful  drive  through  a most  interesting 
country  we  arrived  at  Urcos,  where  we  purposed  taking 
luncheon. 

Scarcely  had  we  reached  the  town  when  our  attention 
was  arrested  by  unusual  sounds  in  our  immediate  vicinity. 
Presently  a procession  of  boisterous  men  and  hoys  defiled 
from  a side  street  and  came  directly  towards  us. 

“The  men  with  kettle  drums  entered  the  gate, 

Dub-rub-a-dub,  dub — the  trumpeters  followed, 

Tantara,  tantara — then  all  the  boys  hollo’d.” 

There  was  a fiesta — feast  day — in  the  place  and  every- 
one, young  and  old,  was  bent  on  having  a pleasant  time, 

1 Cuzco  and  Lima,  p.  118,  London,  1855. 

2 Garcilaso  de  la  Vega,  Commentaries  Reales,  Lib.  VI,  Cap.  XVIL 

210 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  QUICHUAS 

with  the  usual  accompaniments  of  music,  singing  and 
dancing. 

While  we  were  looking  for  a place  where  we  might  get 
something  to  eat — there  was  no  hotel  or  restaurant  visible 
— a little  Indian  boy  came  running  up  to  me  to  inform  me 
that  luncheon  was  awaiting  us  in  a house  that  we  had  just 
passed.  He  had  evidently  been  on  the  lookout  for  us,  and 
as  soon  as  we  stopped,  he  made  haste  to  deliver  his  mes- 
sage. He  then  conducted  us  to  the  home  of  his  mother, 
who  kept  a modest  but  neat  little  inn,  and  there  to  our 
great  surprise,  we  found  a splendid  repast  ready  on  the 
table. 

“I  thought,”  said  the  good  woman,  “that  you  would  wish 
to  proceed  to  Cuzco  without  delay,  so  I deemed  it  best  to 
have  luncheon  served  for  you  immediately  on  your  arrival.” 
“But  how  did  you  know  we  were  coming?”  I inquired. 

“Oh!”  she  answered,  “Mr.  Me telegraphed  from 

Checacupe  this  morning  that  you  would  be  here,  and  re- 
quested me  to  have  a good  luncheon  in  readiness  for  you 
as  soon  as  you  came.” 

That  explained  it.  Good  Mr.  Me had  not  forgotten 

us  after  we  left  his  hospitable  roof,  but  with  the  most 
thoughtful  kindness,  was  looking  out  for  our  welfare  even 
while  we  were  en  route.  Like  his  friends  and  associates 
in  Lima,  Arequipa,  Puno  and  elsewhere  in  Peru,  his 
pleasure  seemed  to  be  centered  for  the  time  being  in  the 
comfort  and  pleasure  of  his  guest. 

Although  our  stay  in  Urcos  was  very  brief,  it  was  long 
enough  to  give  us  a view  of  the  only  object  of  interest  in 
the  place.  This  is  the  celebrated  lake — apparently  the 
crater  of  a long-extinct  volcano — about  which  so  many 
legends  have  been  woven.  One  of  these  is  that  the  Indians 
threw  much  of  the  treasure  of  Cuzco  into  this  lake  when 
they  learned  that  the  Spaniards  were  approaching. 
Among  other  things  was  the  colossal  chain  of  gold  which 
Huayna  Capac  had  ordered  to  be  made  to  commemorate 
the  birth  of  his  son,  Huascar.  According  to  Garcilaso, 

211 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


this  chain  was  long  enough  to  encircle  the  great  square  of 
Cuzco,  which  was  four  hundred  feet  long  and  three  hun- 
dred feet  wide.1 

Zarate,  referring  to  this  famous  chain,  writes  as  follows : 
— “When  his  son  was  born,  Guaynacava” — Huayna  Capac 
— “ordered  a cable  of  gold  to  be  made,  so  thick,  according 
to  the  accounts  of  many  Indians  now  living,  that  two  hun- 
dred Orejones  who  held  it,  were  scarcely  able  to  raise  it. 
In  memory  of  this  famous  jewel,  they  called  that  son 
Huasca,  which  in  their  language  means  a chain.”2  “This 
chain,”  writes  Cieza  de  Leon,  “was  of  such  size  that  it 
weighed  according  to  what  the  Indians  assert  for  a cer- 
tainty, more  than  four  thousand  hundredweights  of  gold.”  3 

Small  wonder  is  it  that  efforts  were  made  shortly  after 
the  conquest  to  secure  this  vast  treasure.  As  early  as 
1557,  Garcilaso  tells  us,  a company  of  twelve  or  thirteen 
Spaniards,  inhabitants  of  Cuzco,  was  formed  to  drain  the 
lake  and  get  possession  of  the  chain  and  other  objects  of 
great  value  reputed  to  be  at  its  bottom.  They  actually 
dug  a tunnel  a hundred  feet  in  length,  but  they  were  pre- 
vented from  going  further  by  a hard  rock  of  flint,  not,  how- 
ever, until  after  they  had  spent  many  ducats  of  their 
wealth. 

Other  attempts  since  that  time  have  been  made  to  secure 
the  coveted  prize,  but  without  result.  If  some  of  our  trea- 
sure-seekers from  the  United  States  were  to  go  to  Urcos 
properly  equipped  with  diamond  drills  and  high  explosives, 
it  would  not  be  difficult  to  empty  the  waters  of  the  lake  into 
the  adjoining  river  Yucay,  but  even  if  this  were  done, 
would  they  find  anything  to  reward  them  for  their  trouble? 
Quien  sabe? 

The  stretch  of  territory  between  Checacupe  and  Cuzco  is 

i Op.  cit.,  Lib.  IX,  Chap.  I. 

z Eistoria  del  Descubrimiento  y Conquista  de  la  Provlncia  del  Peru  y de 
las  Guerras  con  las  cosas  naturales  que  sehalademente,  alii  se  kalian,  y los 
sucessos  que  ha  habido,  por  Augustin  de  Cerate,  Lib.  I,  Cap.  XI,  Anvers,  1550. 

3 Op.  cit. 


212 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  QUICHUAS 

probably  the  most  densely  populated  part  of  the  tableland 
of  Peru,  as  it  is  certainly  the  most  interesting  to  the  his- 
torian, the  archaeologist  and  the  lover  of  wild  nature.  One 
always  has  within  view  deep  ravines,  impetuous  rivers, 
lofty  and  picturesque  mountains.  At  every  turn  there  are 
Inca  monuments  of  some  kind  or  other.  Here  are  the  re- 
mains of  bridges  or  old  forts;  there  of  tambos  and  sanc- 
tuaries, while  in  another  place  are  the  scattered  ruins  of 
what  was  once  a flourishing  town  or  of  a favorite  resort 
of  the  Children  of  the  Sun. 

All  along  the  road  one  meets  groups  of  men  and  women 
in  their  peculiar  attire,  which,  although  bizarre  in  the  ex- 
treme, and  almost  as  remarkable  for  its  extraordinary 
combination  of  colors  as  is  the  dress  of  the  Aymaras  of 
La  Paz,  seems  to  become  them,  especially  the  women,  as 
much  as  do  their  picturesque  garments  become  the  peas- 
ants of  the  Sabine  hills.  They  gather  from  their  aerie- 
like homes  in  the  mountain  in  a way  that  bewilders  one. 
How  they  can  travel  up  and  down  the  narrow,  precipitous 
paths,  which  lead  to  towns  and  villages  thousands  of  feet 
above  the  Vilcamayu,1  not  to  speak  of  how  it  is  possible 
for  them  to  live  in  such  chilly,  desolate  altitudes,  is  a mys- 

i Speaking  of  the  Hacienda  of  Antisana,  13,306  feet  high,  near  Quito,  Hum- 
boldt declares  it  to  be  “without  doubt  one  of  the  highest  inhabited  spots  on 
the  earth.”  In  the  highlands  of  Peru  there  are  not  only  haciendas  but  towns 
and  villages  that  are  several  thousand  feet  higher  than  this  place,  especially 
near  the  headwaters  of  the  Rio  AzangarO  and  of  the  tributaries  of  the  Vil- 
camayo.  One  of  the  largest  and  most  interesting  of  these  towns  is  Yanaoca, 
which  is  a thousand  feet  above  the  Hacienda  of  Antisana  and  more  than  six 
thousand  feet  above  the  Great  St.  Bernard.  It  is  large  enough  to  have  two 
churches  and  a market,  that  on  feast  days  is  frequented  by  all  the  villagers 
for  leagues  around.  It  is  especially  interesting  from  the  fact  that  the  Inca 
Indians  living  here,  having  little  or  no  contact  with  the  Spaniards,  have 
retained  their  primitive  manners  and  customs  and  the  original  purity  of 
their  language. 

Even  the  city  of  Potosi  in  Bolivia,  that  formerly  bore  the  proud  title  of 
Villa  Imperial  and  was  at  one  time  the  largest  city  in  the  New  World,  has 
a higher  altitude  than  the  Hacienda  de  Antisana  of  which  Humboldt  speaks. 
Keane,  in  his  Compendium  of  Geography  and  Travel,  says  it  is  “absolutely 
the  highest  abode  of  man  in  the  southern  continent.”  This,  however,  is  un- 
true, as  the  above-mentioned  Peruvian  towns  are  higher. 

213 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

tery.  They  nearly  always  travel  afoot.  Only  rarely  will 
one  be  seen  mounted  on  a burro  or  a mula. 

Frequently,  too,  one  meets  with  processions  of  the  ever- 
graceful,  inquisitive,  coquettish  llamas,  the  beads  of  whose 
leaders,  especially  on  feast  days,  are  gayly  decorated  with 
bright-colored  ribbons.  Unlike  mules  and  cattle,  they  will 
not  crowd  a horseman  on  a narrow  road,  but  always  get 
out  of  the  way  even  when  they  may  be  exposing  themselves 
to  danger  by  so  doing.  Sometimes  they  will  take  fright 
and  then  they  will  scamper  back  over  the  road  whence  they 
came  with  the  fleetness  of  a gazelle. 

We  had  a very  amusing  case  of  this  kind  on  our  way  to 
Cuzco.  We  were  passing  along  a section  of  road  cut  into 
the  mountain  side,  above  a deep  and  precipitous  ravine 
called  Infiernillo — little  hell — when  we  encountered  a drove 
of  llamas  in  charge  of  a goodly  number  of  Indians.  The 
Indians  scrambled  up  the  bank  to  the  right  while  most  of 
the  llamas  managed  to  find  standing  room  on  the  declivity 
to  our  left,  nearer  the  tumultuous  river  below.  One  young 
llama,  however,  finding  itself  slipping  down  towards  the 
roaring  torrent  beneath,  got  thoroughly  frightened,  and 
after  extricating  itself  from  its  dangerous  position,  started 
back  homewards  with  the  swiftness  of  the  wind.  His 
owner,  a fine  athletic  young  fellow,  immediately  followed 
in  pursuit,  and  then  we  had  a splendid  illustration  of  the 
speed  and  endurance  of  which  the  Quichua  runner  is 
capable.  I had  seen  fleet  runners  in  Egypt  and  Greece, 
but  never  did  I meet  anywhere  one  to  compare  with  this 
nimble-footed  son  of  the  Andes.  I was  then  quite  pre- 
pared to  believe  the  wonderful  stories  that  the  early 
chroniclers  tell  us  regarding  the  great  distances  traversed 
by  the  Inca  chasquis — couriers — in  a short  space  of  time, 
and  to  accept  as  true,  Cieza  de  Leon’s  statement  that  ‘‘one 
of  them  can  do  more  in  a day  than  a mounted  messenger 
could  do  in  three.”  1 

When  we  reached  San  Jeronimo,  a small  town  a few 

i The  Second  part  of  the  Chronicle  of  Peru,  Chap.  XXI. 

214 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  QUICHUAS 


miles  south  of  Cuzco,  we  were  courteously  accosted  by  a 
young  man  who  spoke  perfect  English.  If  our  surprise 
in  Urcos  was  great,  when  we  learned  that  luncheon  was  pre- 
pared for  us,  it  was  now  much  greater. 

“I  am  Sr.  P ,”  said  the  young  man,  introducing  him- 

self, “and  have  just  come  from  Cuzco  to  greet  you  and  to 
put  myself  at  your  disposition  during  your  sojourn  in  our 
city.  I received  a telegram  this  morning  from  Checa- 

cupe,  from  my  good  friend,  Mr.  Me , announcing  your 

arrival  and  begging  me  to  show  you  every  attention  pos- 
sible. I need  not  tell  you  that  it  is  a genuine  pleasure  for 
me  to  comply  with  his  request,  and  I trust  you  will  fully 
enjoy  every  hour  of  your  stay  in  our  midst.  I am  a son 
of  Cuzco,  and  shall  be  glad  to  act  as  your  cicerone  to  all 
points  of  interest  in  and  around  the  old  capital  of  the 
Incas.  ’ ’ 

It  would  be  quite  impossible  to  express  our  surprise  and 
pleasure  at  the  unexpected  greeting  of  this  charming 
Cuzqueno,  and  still  more  impossible  to  voice  our  feeling  of 
gratitude  for  the  more  than  kindly  interest  and  courtesy 
of  our  princely  host  in  Checacupe. 

After  our  surprise  at  this  agreeable  meeting  had  partly 

subsided,  one  of  my  Yale  friends  asked  Mr.  P where 

he  had  become  such  a master  of  English.  “I  spent  several 
years  in  the  United  States,”  he  replied,  “and  made  my 
studies  in  the  University  of  Princeton.  You  see,  I am 
something  of  an  American  myself.  Can  you  wonder  now 
that  I am  delighted  to  see  you?” 

“What  an  extraordinary  meeting!”  another  of  our  party 
remarked.  “Here  in  this  far-off  land  of  the  Children  of 
the  Sun,  four  graduates,  hitherto  unknown  to  one  another, 
of  three  American  universities,  come  together  in  the  most 
unexpected  manner.  Surely  this  must  be  a good  omen. 
What  does  it  portend?” 

“That,”  someone  answered,  “we  are,  for  one  thing,  to 
see  Cuzco  under  the  most  favorable  auspices.” 

And  such  was  the  case,  as  the  sequel  proved. 

215 


CHAPTER  XIII 


THE  ROME  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 

The  illustrious  Peruvian  historian,  Garcilaso  de  la 
Vega,  descended  through  his  mother,  the  husta  Chimpa 
Ocllo,1  from  the  blood  royal  of  the  Incas,  describing  his 
native  city,  Cuzco,  writes  as  follows:  “Cuzco,  with  regard 
to  the  Inca  empire,  was  another  Rome,  and  the  one  city 
may  well  be  compared  with  the  other,  as  they  resemble 
each  other  in  several  things.  The  first  and  principal  re- 
semblance is  that  both  were  founded  by  their  first  kings. 
The  second  is  that  both  obliged  many  and  divers  nations 
to  submit  to  their  sway.  The  third  is  the  numerous  good 
and  excellent  laws  that  were  promulgated  from  both  for 
the  public  good.  The  fourth  is  the  number  of  great  and 
excellent  men  they  produced  and  formed  by  their  good 
civil  and  military  institutions.  In  these  things  Rome  had 
the  advantage  over  Cuzco,  not  in  having  more  great  men, 
but  in  having  educated  them  to  more  purpose  through  the 
invention  of  letters,  by  which  also  their  deeds  were  im- 
mortalized, and  through  which  they  became  not  less  illus- 
trious for  arts  than  excellent  in  the  use  of  arms,  the  one 
rivaling  the  other;  the  one  achieving  deeds  in  peace  and 
war,  the  other  writing  of  their  achievements  for  the  honor 
of  their  country,  and  for  a perpetual  memorial  of  their 
deeds.’  ’ 2 

1 Her  father  was  Hualpa  Tupac,  a brother  of  Inca  Huayna  Capac,  and  a 
son  of  Tupac  Inca  Yupanqui,  two  of  the  most  distinguished  of  the  distin- 
guished line  of  Inca  rulers. 

2 Commentarios  Reales,  Lib.  VII,  Cap.  VIII. 

Bolivar’s  accomplished  secretary,  Col.  D.  F.  O’Leary,  who  visited  Cuzco 
during  the  War  of  Independence,  likewise  compares  the  capital  of  the  Incas 
to  that  of  the  Csesars.  “Cuzco,”  he  writes,  “interests  me  highly.  Its  history, 

216 


THE  ROME  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


If  the  learned  and  patriotic  historiographer  of  the  Incas 
could  return  to  his  birthplace  to-day,  he  would  find  still 
other  resemblances  between  the  City  of  the  Sun  and  the 
Capital  of  the  Seven  Hills,  founded  by  Romulus.  For,  as 
on  the  Tiber  we  find  a legendary  Rome,  a Rome  of  the 
Kings,  a Rome  of  the  republic,  a Rome  of  the  Caesars,  and 
a Rome  of  the  Popes,  so  likewise  on  the  Huatanay  we 
find  a pre-Incaic,  cyclopean  Cuzco,  a Cuzco  of  the  Incas, 
a Cuzco  of  the  Spaniards,  and  a Cuzco  of  the  Peruvian  re- 
public. And  in  Cuzco,  as  in  Rome,  it  is  these  peculiar 
characteristics  of  the  different  epochs,  so  clearly  marked 
that  they  are  at  once  recognizable,  that  give  to  the  old 
Inca  capital  the  peculiar  cachet  of  a city  eternal. 

For  years  after  the  conquest,  Cuzco  was  the  su- 
perior of  Lima,  and  even  during  the  later  colonial  period 
the  capital  of  the  Incas  was  the  acknowledged  rival  of 
the  capital  of  the  viceroys.  Notaries  were  required,  under 
severe  penalties,  to  write  at  the  head  of  all  public  docu- 
ments, “En  la  gran  ciudad,  del  Cuzco,  cabeza  de  estos  reinos 
y provincias  del  Peru  en  las  Indias” — “In  the  great  city  of 
Cuzco,  head  of  these  Kingdoms  and  provinces  of  Peru  in 
the  Indies.’ ’ 1 Even  so  late  as  the  seventeenth  and  eight- 
eenth centuries  it  was,  next  to  Lima,  the  city  of  the  greatest 
social  importance  in  the  viceroyalty.  And  here,  too,  were 
the  same  ambitions  for  social  distinction  and  political  pre- 
ferment as  in  Lima,  and  the  same  petty  jealousies  and  dis- 
putes between  the  civil  and  the  ecclesiastical  officials 
about  rights  and  privileges  and  precedence  at  public  func- 
tions. 

its  fables,  its  ruins  are  enchanting.  This  city  may,  with  truth,  be  called  the 
Rome  of  America.  The  immense  fortress  on  the  north  is  the  capitol.  The 
temple  of  the  sun  is  its  Coliseum,  Manco  Capac  was  its  Romulus,  Vira- 
cocha  its  Augustus,  Huascar  its  Pompey,  and  Atahualpa  its  Caesar.  The 
Pizarros,  Almagros,  Valdivias  and  Toledos  are  the  Huns,  Goths  and  Chris- 
tians who  have  destroyed  it.  Tupac  Amaru  is  its  Belisarius,  who  gave  it 
a day  of  hope.  Pumacagua  is  its  Rienzi  and  last  patriot.”  General  Miller’s 
Memoirs,  Vol.  II,  p.  194,  London,  1828. 

i Apuntes  Historicos  del  Peru  y Noticias  Gronologicas  del  Cuzco,  p.  183,  por 
Manuel  de  Mendiburu,  Lima,  1902,  and  Anales  del  Cuzco  1600-1750,  Lima,  1901. 

217 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


The  largest  and  most  imposing  structure  of  modern 
Cuzco  is  the  Cathedral  of  the  Assumption.  It  was  ninety 
years  in  building  and  was  considered  by  the  people  of 
Cuzco  the  most  beautiful  church  in  the  world.  It  occu- 
pies the  site  of  the  palace  of  Viracocha,  the  eighth  Inca, 
and  the  galpon,  or  great  hall  in  which  the  Spaniards  had 
their  barracks,  when  they  took  possession  of  the  city. 
So  well  constructed  is  it  and  so  thick  are  its  walls  that  it 
withstood  the  destructive  earthquake  of  1650,  which  caused 
such  havoc  in  other  parts  of  the  city.  The  erection  of 
the  cathedral  was  authorized  by  a bull  of  Paul  III  in  1536. 
Its  first  bishop  was  the  Dominican  Fray  Vicente  Val- 
verde,  the  noted  chaplain  of  Francisco  Pizarro,1  whose 
diocese  embraced  the  whole  of  Peru  and  the  provinces  of 
Quito  and  Chile  as  well. 

The  cathedral  is  indeed  a splendid  structure  and  in  the 
western  hemisphere  is  surpassed  only  by  the  noble  cathe- 
drals of  Lima  and  the  city  of  Mexico.  It  is  particularly 
remarkable  for  its  sculptures  in  wood,  which  ornament 
the  interior,  the  work  of  Indian  artists  in  which  they  ex- 
hibited wonderful  talent  and  skill.  At  the  time  of  my 
visit  the  interior  of  the  building  was  being  renovated  at 
great  expense,  and,  when  the  work  shall  be  completed, 
the  good  people  of  Cuzco  will,  I doubt  not,  declare,  as  did 
their  predecessors  long  ago,  that  their  cathedral  is  the 
most  beautiful  in  the  world.  So  far  as  the  interior 
is  concerned,  it  will  certainly  be  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful. 

Among  the  other  beautiful  churches  are  La  Compania 
and  La  Merced.  In  this  latter  church  are  the  remains 

i There  are  many  conflicting  reports  about  the  death  of  this  noted  ec- 
clesiastic. According  to  Mendiburu  he  died  a natural  death,  presumably  in 
Cuzco,  after  governing  his  diocese  three  and  a half  years.  Others  say  that 
he  was  put  to  death  by  the  Indians  of  the  island  of  Puno  in  the  gulf  of 
Guayaquil,  while  he  was  trying  to  evangelize  them.  At  the  end  of  the 
Dominican  martvrology,  among  those  who  are  Vitce  sanctitate  insignes  com- 
memoration is  made  of  Frater  Vincentius  Valverdius,  Episcopus  Cuzconsis 
in  Provincia  Peruana  ab  Indis  interfectus. 

218 


THE  ROME  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


of  Almagro  and  of  Jnan  and  Gonsalvo  Pizarro,  the  half- 
brothers  of  the  conqueror  of  Peru. 

Of  special  interest  to  every  visitor  is  the  Church  of  San 
Domingo,  which  occupies  the  site  of  the  famous  temple 
of  the  Sun.  Indeed,  parts  of  the  walls  and  foundation 
of  the  old  Inca  structure  enter  into  the  construction  of 
the  Christian  place  of  worship.  It  stands  in  the  lower 
part  of  the  city,  in  the  section  known  as  Curicancha,  or 
Place  of  Gold.  If  but  a tithe  of  what  the  old  chroniclers 
tell  us  of  the  riches  and  splendor  of  the  temple  of  the  Sun 
be  true,  it  deserved  to  be  classed  among  the  world’s  great- 
est wonders.  Cieza  de  Leon  declares  that  he  had  seen 
only  two  buildings  in  Spain  in  which  the  masonry  was 
comparable  with  that  in  this  edifice,  which  he  avers  “was 
one  of  the  richest  temples  in  the  world.” 

“All  the  four  walls  of  the  temple,”  writes  Garcilaso, 
“were  covered  from  roof  to  floor  with  plates  and  slabs 
of  gold.  In  the  side,  where  we  should  place  the  altar, 
they  placed  a figure  of  the  Sun,  made  of  a plate  of  gold  of 
a thickness  double  that  of  the  other  plates  which  covered 
the  walls.  The  figure  was  made  with  a circular  face 
and  rays  of  fire  issuing  from  it,  all  of  one  piece,  just  as 
the  sun  is  represented  by  painters.  It  was  so  large  as 
to  occupy  one  side  of  the  temple  from  one  wall  to  the 
other.1 

1 After  the  Spaniards  entered  Cuzco,  this  figure  of  the  Sun,  it  has  hitherto 
been  supposed,  fell  to  the  lot  of  a noble  Knight,  named  Mancio  Suerra  de 
Leguisamo,  who  gambled  it  away  in  a single  night.  This  is  the  origin  of 
the  saying,  Juega  el  sol  antes  que  amanezca — He  plays  away  the  sun  before 
dawn.  According,  however,  to  Lizarraga,  op.  cit.,  p.  348,  the  image  of  the 
sun  in  question  was  not  the  great  one  on  the  wall  of  the  temple,  but  a 
smaller  one  graven  on  a golden  plate,  which  covered  a stone  receptacle  into 
which  offerings  of  chicha  were  poured  at  the  festival  of  Raymi.  The  large 
image  was  never  found,  for  it  was  concealed  with  other  treasures  of  the 
Incas  before  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards  in  Cuzco.  It  is  due,  however,  to 
the  memory  of  this  great  gamester — gran  jugador — as  Lizarraga  calls  him, 
to  state  that  although  he  lived  many  years  after  this  event  and  held  im- 
portant offices  in  the  municipality  of  Cuzco,  he  never  touched  a card  again. 
He  is  the  same  conquistador  mentioned  in  chapter  X in  connection  with  the 
honesty  of  the  Indians  before  the  arrival  of  Europeans. 

219 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


In  comparing  the  Inca  with  the  Roman  capital,  Garci- 
laso  might  have  added  that  Cuzco  resembled  Rome  in 
the  richness  and  magnitude  of  its  temples  and  palaces, 
and  in  the  untold  treasures  of  gold  and  silver  which 
flowed  into  it  from  all  parts  of  Tahuantin-suyo.  So 
enormous  was  the  amount  of  these  two  metals  in  Cuzco, 
before  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards,  that  it  seems  incredible. 
For  this  reason  many  modern  writers  are  disposed  to  re- 
gard the  accounts  of  the  early  Spanish  historians  dealing 
with  this  subject  as  greatly  exaggerated. 

I have  briefly  referred  to  the  riches  of  the  temple  of 
the  Sun.  Gomara  writes  as  follows  of  the  riches  of  the 
palaces  of  the  Incas:  “All  the  service  of  their  house, 

table  and  kitchen,  was  of  gold  and  silver,  or  at  least  of 
silver  and  copper.  The  Inca  had  in  his  chamber  hollow 
statues  of  gold  which  appeared  like  giants,  and  others  nat- 
urally imitated  from  animals,  birds  and  trees ; from  plants 
produced  by  the  land,  and  from  such  fish  as  are  yielded 
by  the  waters  of  the  Kingdom.  He  also  had  ropes,  bas- 
kets and  hampers  of  gold  and  silver,  and  piles  of  golden 
sticks  to  imitate  fuel  prepared  for  burning.  In  short,  there 
was  nothing  that  his  territory  produced  that  he  had  not 
got  imitated  in  gold.”  1 

Cieza  de  Leon,  describing  the  magnificence  of  one  of  the 
solemn  harvest  festivals  celebrated  in  the  plaza  of  the 
capital,  declares:  “We  hold  it  to  be  very  certain  that 

neither  in  Jerusalem,  nor  in  Rome  nor  in  Persia,  nor  in 
any  other  part  of  the  world,  by  any  state  or  king  of  this 
earth,  was  such  wealth  of  gold  and  silver  and  precious 
stones  collected  together  as  in  this  square  of  Cuzco  when 
this  festival  and  others  like  it  were  celebrated.” 2 

Garcilaso,  Zarate  and  other  early  historians  expressed 
themselves  in  the  same  strain.  In  his  latter  years,  when 
residing  in  Spain,  Garcilaso  seemed  to  realize  that  the 
accounts  that  had  been  published  regarding  the  vast  riches 

1 Historia  General  de  las  Indies,  Cap.  CXX. 

2 The  Second  Part  of  the  Chronicle  of  Peru,  Chap.  XXX. 

220 


THE  ROME  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


of  Cuzco  savored  of  Oriental  tales,  and  wrote  as  follows: 
“This  is  not  hard  for  those  to  believe  who  have  since 
seen  so  much  gold  and  silver  arrive  here  from  that  land. 
In  the  year  1595  alone,  within  the  space  of  eight  months, 
thirty-five  millions  of  gold  and  silver  crossed  the  bar  of 
San  Lucar  in  three  cargoes.”  1 
Making  due  allowance  for  exaggeration  on  the  part  of 
the  early  chroniclers  regarding  the  treasures  of  gold  and 
silver  possessed  by  the  Incas,  and  basing  our  deductions 
on  indisputable  facts,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  wealth 
amassed  in  Cuzco  was  enormous.  For  generations,  prob- 
ably for  centuries,  a constant  stream  of  the  precious  metals 
flowed  into  the  capital  from  every  part  of  the  empire  where 
it  could  be  found.  They  were  so  highly  valued  that  they 
were  exacted  as  tributes  from  those  who  lived  in  mineral- 
bearing districts.  Besides  this,  the  mere  fact  that  the 
Incas  desired  these  metals  for  their  personal  adornment, 
or  for  beautifying  and  enriching  the  palaces  and  temples 
of  Cuzco,  was  sufficient  reason  to  prompt  every  loyal  sub- 
ject in  the  empire  to  gratify  his  ruler’s  desire  and  to  con- 
tribute towards  the  splendor  of  the  ceremonies  connected 
with  the  worship  of  the  Sun. 

But  this  was  not  all.  “To  add  to  the  grandeur  of  their 
capital,  a law  was  made  that  neither  gold  nor  silver,  that 
once  entered  Cuzco,  should  ever  leave  it  again,  on  pain  of 
death  to  be  inflicted  on  the  transgressor.  Owing  to  this 
law,  the  quantity  that  entered  being  great,  while  none 
went  out,  there  was  such  store  that  if,  when  the  Spaniards 
entered,  they  had  not  committed  other  tricks  and  had  not 
so  soon  executed  their  cruelty  in  putting  Atahualpa  to 
death,  I know  not  how  many  ships  would  have  been  re- 
quired to  bring  such  treasure  to  Spain  as  is  now  lost  in 
the  bowels  of  the  earth,  and  will  remain  so,  because  those 
who  buried  it  are  now  dead.”  2 

None  of  this  treasure  was  drawn  on  in  time  of  war,  for 
the  “provinces  supplied  all  the  men,  arms  and  provisions 

i Op.  cit.,  Lib.  VI,  Cap.  II.  2 Cieza  de  Leon,  ut.  sup.,  pp.  40,  41. 

221 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


that  were  necessary.”  For  this  reason  Cieza  continues: 
“I  am  not  therefore  astonished  at  these  things,  nor  even  if 
the  whole  city  of  Cuzco  and  its  temples  had  been  built  of 
pure  gold.  That  which  brings  necessity  upon  princes  and 
prevents  them  from  accumulating  riches  is  war.  We  have 
a clear  example  of  this  in  the  expenditure  of  the  Emperor, 
from  the  year  in  which  he  was  crowned  to  the  present  time. 
For,  having  received  more  silver  and  gold  than  the  kings 
of  Spain  ever  had,  from  the  King  Don  Rodrigo  to  himself, 
none  of  them  were  in  such  necessity  as  his  Majesty.  Yet, 
if  he  had  no  wars,  and  his  residence  was  in  Spain,  in  truth, 
what  with  his  dues  and  with  the  treasure  from  the  Indies, 
all  Spain  would  be  as  full  of  riches  as  Peru  was  in  the  time 
of  its  kings.”  1 

The  accomplished  soldier-annalist  may,  occasionally, 
have  overestimated  the  wealth  of  the  Incas ; but  the  amount 
of  treasure  collected  for  Atahualpa’s  ransom,  not  to  speak 
of  what  has  been  found  since  in  the  huacas  of  the  Great 
Chimu  and  elsewhere,  proves  conclusively  that  it  was  truly 
colossal.  There  is,  however,  good  reason  to  believe  that 
the  treasure  secured  by  the  invaders  was  but  a small  frac- 
tion of  the  original  amount,  for  the  Indians,  we  are  in- 
formed, buried  most  of  their  treasures  “as  soon  as  they 
saw  how  the  Spaniards  thirsted  for  them,”  not  wish- 
ing that  things,  “which  had  been  dedicated  to  the  services 
of  their  kings,  should  ever  be  used  by  others.”  The  In- 
dians, according  to  Cieza,  declared  that  the  tens  of  millions 
secured  by  the  Spaniards  were,  in  comparison  with  that 
which  was  concealed,  but  as  “a  drop  taken  out  of  a great 
vase  of  water.” 

It  would  be  idle  to  speculate  on  the  probable  value  of 
the  precious  metals  collected  in  Cuzco,  when  the  Spanish 
brigantines  first  touched  the  shores  of  Peru;  but  after 
making  reasonable  reductions  in  the  estimates  of  early 
chroniclers,  one  would  seem  warranted  in  concluding  that 
the  wealth  of  gold  and  silver  then  gathered  in  its  temples 


i Ibid. 


222 


THE  ROME  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


and  palaces  equaled,  if  it  did  not  surpass,  the  sum  total 
in  the  Roman  treasury  in  the  palmiest  days  of  the  empire 
of  the  Caesars. 

About  a block  from  the  spot  occupied  by  the  temple  of 
the  Sun  are  the  remains  of  the  palace  of  the  Virgins  of 
the  Sun.  This  building  was  originally  about  eight  hun- 
dred feet  long  and  two  hundred  feet  wide,  and  was,  in 
the  time  of  the  Incas,  occupied  by  virgins  of  royal  lineage. 
This  edifice  did  not  possess  the  rich  adornment  of  the  tem- 
ple of  the  Sun,  nor  the  delicate  finish  of  the  temple  of  the 
Roman  vestals,  but  it  did  exhibit,  as  its  ruins  to-day  at- 
test, all  the  vast  strength  of  those  imposing  structures 
which  were  once  the  glories  of  Thebes  and  Memphis. 
Parts  of  the  walls  are  still  in  a splendid  state  of  preser- 
vation, and  are  not  only  the  most  conspicuous  remains  of 
ancient  Cuzco,  hut  they  are  among  the  best  existing  illus- 
trations of  the  style  of  work  that  characterized  Inca  archi- 
tecture. The  stones  are  massive  and  the  joints  are  so 
perfect  that,  as  has  well  been  observed,  “if  the  faces  of  the 
stones  were  dressed  down  smooth  they  could  hardly  be  dis- 
cerned.’ ’ 

This  former  home  of  the  Virgins  of  the  Sun,  so  venerated 
in  the  time  of  the  Incas,  is  now  the  convent  of  the  religious 
of  Santa  Catalina,  whose  virtues  and  good  works  have  won 
for  them  the  admiration  of  all  who  know  them. 

Among  objects  of  minor  importance,  hut  of  special  in- 
terest to  the  visitor  and  the  lover  of  antiquities,  are  the 
houses  occupied  by  some  of  the  most  distinguished  of  the 
conquistadores.  The  haughty  cavaliers  “soon  established 
themselves  in  the  Imperial  palaces,  built  on  them  second 
stories  with  broad  trellised  balconies,  and  carved  their 
armorial  bearings  over  lintels  and  gateways.”  In  conse- 
quence of  these  changes,  the  old  Inca  capital  soon  assumed 
the  Moorish  aspect  of  Granada  or  Cordova,  a feature  it 
still  retains. 

Not  the  least  interesting  edifice  is  the  home  of  Garcilaso 
de  la  Vega,  to  which  every  student  of  history  is  sure  to 

223 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

make  a pilgrimage.  Then  there  is  the  remarkable  pulpit 
in  the  Church  of  San  Bias.  It  is  ten  feet  in  diameter  and 
thirty  feet  high  and  is  constructed  of  wood  carved  in  the 
most  artistic  manner  imaginable.  So  delicate,  indeed,  is 
the  workmanship,  even  in  the  minutest  details,  that  it 
might  well  be  called  wooden  filagree.  There  are  several 
hundred  figures  and  heads  of  saints  and  angels  in  this  ad- 
mirable piece  of  work,  and  each  one  is  a masterpiece  of 
the  woodcarver’s  art.  I do  not  think  there  is  any  similar 
work  in  Belgium — so  celebrated  for  its  artistic  productions 
in  wood — that  surpasses  it,  and  few,  if  any,  pulpits  that 
equal  it  for  beauty  of  design  and  perfection  of  finish. 
The  old  Inca  gold  and  silversmiths  were  justly  celebrated 
for  their  skill  in  working  in  the  precious  metals,  but  this 
admirable  pulpit  of  San  Bias  shows  that  the  artificers  in 
wood  were  not  inferior  in  point  of  skill,  to  the  craftsmen 
in  gold.  An  Englishman,  some  years  ago,  offered  fifty 
thousand  soles  for  this  superb  work  of  art,  but  his  offer 
was  declined.  I am  sure  if  our  munificent  and  enthusiastic 
Maecenas  of  art,  Mr.  J.  P.  Morgan,  were  to  see  this  really 
unique  masterpiece,  he  would  not  rest  until  he  counted  it 
among  the  other  treasures  that  have  made  his  collections 
so  famous. 

Cuzco,  as  Rome,  is  a composite  city.  It  is  made  up  of 
ancient  monuments  and  modern  structures,  or  of  buildings 
which  are  a combination  of  the  old  and  the  new. 

Many  of  the  private  dwellings  of  Cuzco,  as  has  been 
stated,  are  built  on  the  foundations  of  the  old  Inca  palaces. 
In  some  cases  a greater  part  of  the  walls  of  the  older  edi- 
fices are  retained.  Some  of  these  walls,  as  those,  for  in- 
stance, of  the  palace  of  the  Inca  Rocca,  are  cyclopean  in 
character,  and  many  of  the  polygonal  stones  here  seen 
weigh  several  tons.  One  of  them  is  La  piedra  famosa  de 
doce  angulos — the  famous  stone  of  twelve  corners — which 
attracts  as  much  attention  to-day  as  it  did  at  the  time  of 
the  conquest.  In  other  cases  the  stones  are  rectangular 
blocks  of  various  sizes  laid  in  regular  courses  but  fitted  so 

224 


THE  ROME  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


accurately  that  the  statement  of  the  old  chroniclers  that  it 
is  impossible  to  introduce  the  thinnest  knife  blade  or  finest 
needle  between  them,  is  literally  true.  Squier  is  right 
when  he  declares  that  “The  world  has  nothing  to  show  in 
the  way  of  stone  cutting  to  surpass  the  skill  and  accuracy 
displayed  in  the  Inca  structures  of  Cuzco.  All  modern 
work  of  the  kind  there — and  there  are  some  fine  examples 
of  skill — looks  rude  and  barbarous  in  comparison.  ’ ’ 1 

The  wonders,  however,  of  the  old  capital  of  the  Incas 
are  not  confined  to  its  temples  and  palaces.  Equally  mar- 
velous and  deserving  of  attention  is  the  stupendous  for- 
tress, or  citadel,  of  Sacsahuaman,  which  overtowers  it  on 
the  north.  It  is  on  a bold  headland,  • or  mountain  spur, 
whose  summit  is  nearly  eight  hundred  feet  above  the  main 
plaza  of  the  city. 

Almost  midway  up  the  precipitous  sides  of  this  hill,  near 
the  Church  of  San  Cristobal,  are  the  reputed  remains  of 
the  palace  of  Manco  Capac,  the  founder  of  Cuzco,  which  are 
now  the  property  of  an  Italian  merchant. 

The  conquistadores  justly  classed  the  citadel  of  Sacsa- 
huaman as  the  eighth  wonder  of  the  world.  By  some  it 
was  considered  even  superior  to  any  of  the  seven  wonders 
of  antiquity.  And  so  great  are  the  stones  composing  its 
walls — one  of  them  weighing  nearly  four  hundred  tons — 
that  it  was  thought  impossible  to  place  them  in  the  position 
they  now  occupy  without  the  aid  of  the  devil.2 

For  a description  of  this  extraordinary  fortress  I must 
refer  the  reader  to  Garcilaso  and  Cieza,3  who  have  given 

1 Op.  cit.,  p.  435. 

2 “Thus  it  is,”  writes  Garcilaso,  “that  the  work  is  put  down  to  enchant- 
ment, due  to  the  great  familiarity  these  people  had  with  devils.”  Op.  cit., 
Lib.  VII,  Cap.  XXVIII. 

s Among  modern  writers  who  have  written  about  Cuzco  and  its  monuments 
the  most  reliable  are  Squier,  Markham,  and  Middendorf.  Regarding  such 
works  as  Paul  Marcoy’s  Voyage  d Travers  L’Amdrique  de  Sud,  one  can  say 
with  the  noted  traveler  and  geographer  Professor  Antonio  Raimondi,  that 
they  “should  be  looked  upon  as  the  product  of  a vivid  imagination  rather 
than  truthful  composition.”  “It  is  to  be  lamented  that  so  able  a writer,  and 
one  who  has  had  the  opportunity  of  visiting  unexplored  regions,  has  em- 

225 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


a detailed  account  of  it.  I may  state,  however,  that  it  is 
about  twelve  hundred  feet  in  length  by  about  seven  hun- 
dred in  breadth.  The  headland  on  which  it  stands  is  a 
metamorphic  rock  of  complex  composition.  The  walls, 
three  in  number — not  two,  as  Prescott  states — that  consti- 
tute the  defenses  on  the  north  side,  are  nearly  a third  of 
a mile  in  length  and  are,  for  the  most  part,  composed  of 
a cherty  limestone,  which  was  obtained  from  quarries  about 
three-quarters  of  a mile  away  and  not,  as  Garcilaso  as- 
serts, from  beyond  the  Yucay,  fifteen  leagues  distant. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  the  early  chroniclers  regarded 
the  fortress  as  the  work  of  demons,  for  portions  of  it,  as 
Garcilaso  phrases  it,  are  “composed  of  rocks  rather  than 
stones.”  Some  of  the  stones  are  from  fourteen  to  fifteen 
feet  high  and  ten  to  twelve  broad  and  of  great  thickness — 
far  larger  than  any  found  in  any  of  the  Pelasgic  remains 
of  Italy  or  Greece.  And  the  joints,  while  not  so  perfect 
as  they  are  represented  to  be  by  the  old  chroniclers,  are 
nevertheless,  in  spite  of  earthquakes  and  the  long-contin- 
ued action  of  the  elements,  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  any 
seen  in  our  modern  fortifications. 

But  more  wonderful  than  the  huge  rocks  found  in  the 
fortress  is  the  military  skill  exhibited  in  the  construction 
of  the  walls  and  in  the  employment  of  salients  that  would 
do  credit  to  a Vauban.  Fergusson,  in  his  masterly  work 
on  architecture,  expresses  himself  on  this  feature  of  Sac- 
saliuaman  as  follows : 

The  stones  “are  arranged  with  a degree  of  skill  nowhere 
else  to  be  met  with  in  any  work  of  fortification  anterior 
to  the  invention  of  gunpowder.  To  use  a modern  term, 
it  is  a fortification  en  tenaille;  the  reentering  angles  are 
generally  the  right  angles,  so  contrived  that  every  part  is 

ployed  his  talents  in  a work  of  such  a class  as  his  Seines  et  Passages  dans 
les  Andes,  deviating  so  much  from  the  truth,  when  he  could  by  faithfully 
describing  countries  so  new  as  Peru,  have  interested  the  reader  much  more 
than  by  fantastic  stories.”  Journal  of  the  Royal  Geographical  Society  of 
London,  Vol.  XXXVII,  p.  118. 


226 


THE  ROME  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


seen,  and  as  perfectly  flanked  as  are  the  best  European  for- 
tifications of  the  present  day. 

“It  is  not  a little  singular  that  this  perfection  should 
have  been  reached  by  a rude  people  in  Southern  America, 
while  it  escaped  the  Greeks  and  Romans  and  the  mediaeval 
engineers.  The  true  method  of  its  attainment  was  never 
discovered  in  Europe,  until  it  was  forced  on  the  attention 
of  military  men  by  the  discovery  of  gunpowder.  Here  it 
is  used  by  a people  who  never  had — so  far  as  we  know — 
an  external  war,  but  who,  nevertheless,  have  designed  the 
most  perfectly  planned  fortress  ever  known.  ’ ’ 1 

The  citadel  of  Sacsahuaman,  according  to  the  majority  of 
the  early  Spanish  chroniclers,  was  the  result  of  the  com- 
bined efforts  of  the  Incas  Yupanqui,  Huayna  Capac  and 
Huascar,  the  last  three  Incas  who  ruled  before  the  advent 
of  the  Spaniards.  It  was  fifty  years  in  building,  and 
twenty — some  say  thirty  thousand — Indians  were  em- 
ployed in  the  gigantic  undertaking.  How  the  builders  of 
this  colossal  structure  were  able  to  transport  such  immense 
masses  of  stone  and  place  them  in  position,  or  how  they 
were  able  to  dress  and  fit  them  with  such  marvelous  pre- 
cision, with  the  primitive  tools  at  their  command,  I shall 
not  inquire.  They  had  no  draught  animals,  no  machinery 
that  we  know  of,  and  had  no  knowledge  of  iron  or  steel.. 
And  yet,  notwithstanding  all  this,  they  were  able  to  con- 
struct “one  of  the  most  imposing  monuments  in  America 
or  in  the  world” — a monument  that,  as  an  exhibition  of 
engineering  skill  and  daring,  can  take  rank  with  the  pyra- 
mids of  Gizeh,  and  which,  humanly  speaking,  will  endure 
as  long  as  the  mammoth  creation  of  Cheops. 

Garcilaso  complained  that  the  conquistadores  disman- 
tled the  citadel  “to  build  the  private  houses  they  now 
have  in  Cuzco.  In  order  to  save  the  cost,  delay  and  trou- 
ble which  the  Indians  expend  on  preparing  dressed 
stones  for  building,  the  Spaniards  pulled  down  all  the  ma- 

i History  of  Architecture  in  All  Countries,  Vol.  II,  pp.  780,  781,  London, 
1867. 

227 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

sonry  walls  within  the  circle  of  the  fortress,  and  there  is 
not  a house  in  the  city  which  has  not  been  partly  built  with 
those  stones,  at  least  among  those  that  the  Spaniards  have 
erected.”  1 Saesaliuaman  was  thus  to  Cuzco  what  the  Coli- 
seum was  to  Home — the  quarry  whence  to  draw  building 
material  for  edifices  of  a later  age. 

Notwithstanding  the  opinion  of  Spanish  chroniclers  and 
of  those  who  have  followed  them  that  Sacsahuaman  is  due 
entirely  to  the  Incas,  recent  research  seems  to  demonstrate 
that  certain  parts  of  the  fortress,  especially  the  cyclopean 
sections  of  the  walls,  belong  to  a much  earlier  date.  The 
natives  living  near  the  southern  shore  of  Lake  Titicaca, 
Garcilaso  informs  us,  declared  that  the  edifices  of  Tia- 
huanco  “were  built  before  the  time  of  the  Incas,  and  that 
the  Incas  built  the  fortress  of  Cuzco  in  imitation  of 
them.”  2 

Whether  this  he  true  or  not,  it  is  incredible  that  the 
extraordinary  monuments  found  throughout  the  length 
and  breadth  of  the  Peruvian  empire  could  have  been  the 
work  of  the  thirteen  Incas,  from  Manco  Capac  to  Huascar 
inclusive.  It  is  still  more  incredible  that  a people  sunk  in 
the  lowest  depths  of  savagery  could,  in  a few  centuries, 
have  made  such  progress  towards  civilization  as  did  the 
.Children  of  the  Sun.  To  have  developed  architecture  to 
such  a degree  of  perfection  as  is  evinced  in  the  ruins  of 
Tiahuanaco  and  Cuzco  and  Pisac  and  Ollantaytambo ; to 
have  achieved  so  much  in  agriculture,  irrigation,  the  do- 
mestic arts  and  legislation,  is  conclusive  evidence  of  a 
much  longer  cultural  period  than  that  of  the  Inca  dynasty 
as  described  by  Garcilaso  and  his  school.  It  is  more  likely 
that  there  were  several  cultural  periods  and  several  dy- 
nasties long  anterior  to  that  founded  by  Manco  Capac. 

According  to  Montesinos,  the  ancestors  of  the  Peruvians 
came  to  South  America  thousands  of  years  before  the  first 
of  the  Incas  set  out  to  teach  the  savage  tribes,  among  whom 
he  appeared,  the  arts  of  civilized  life.  But,  until  recently, 

1 Op.  cit.,  Lib.  VII,  Cap.  XXIX.  2 Op.  cit.,  Lib.  Ill,  Cap.  I. 

228 


THE  ROME  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


this  writer  has  been  regarded  with  suspicion,  and  his  long 
list  of  a hundred  and  one  rulers  from  Ophir,  the 
grandson  of  the  patriarch  Noah,  to  Huascar,  has  been 
treated  as  a figment  of  the  imagination.  He  is  now, 
however,  considered  by  scholars  with  more  favor,  and, 
while  few  are  prepared  to  give  full  credence  to  his  history 
of  Peru,  as  traced  out  in  his  Memorias  Antiguas,  all  rec- 
ognize the  utter  inadequacy  of  Garcilaso ’s  story  of  the 
Incas  to  account  for  the  advanced  social,  political  and  eco- 
nomic status  of  the  Peruvians  at  the  time  of  the  conquest.1 

If  Montesinos  demands  too  much  time  for  the  evolution 
of  Peruvian  civilization,  Garcilaso  certainly  allows  too 
little.  To  suppose  that  the  culture,  the  religion,  the 
military  and  social  organization  of  Peru,  at  the  time  of 
Huayna  Capec,  was  the  result  of  three  or  four  centuries 
of  Inca  rule,  would  be  to  suppose  what  has  never  once  oc- 
curred in  any  other  part  of  the  world.  It  would  be  tanta- 
mount to  admitting  that  Charlemagne  was  the  creator  of 
modern  civilization,  independently  of  what  had  been  ac- 
complished ages  before  by  Rome,  Greece,  Egypt,  Judea 
and  Assyria.  It  would  be  equivalent  to  asserting  that  the 
people  of  ancient  Peru  were  incomparably  more  highly  en- 
dowed than  the  Greek  or  the  Italian  or  the  Hindu. 
For  the  development  of  a perfect  and  harmonious  lan- 
guage like  the  Quichua,  which  is  still  spoken  from  Santiago 
del  Estero  to  Quito,  and  from  the  Pacific  to  the  Ucayali; 2 

1 Sr.  Vicente  F.  Lopez,  in  his  learned  works,  Les  Races  Aryennes  du  Perou, 
p.  412,  after  referring  to  “the  fictitious  and  conventional  genealogy  of  the 
Incas,”  as  given  by  Garcilaso  and  other  historians  of  the  stamp  of  Rollin, 
who  set  more  store  by  pet  theories  than  popular  legends  and  traditions, 
speaks  of  Montesinos  as  an  exact  and  well-informed  chronicler — “Un  chron- 
iqueur  exact  et  bien  informe.”  This  is  quite  different  from  the  opinion  of 
Prescott,  who  declares  that  the  painstaking  author  of  the  Memorias  and  the 
Anales  is  an  “indifferent  authority  for  anything.” 

2 Quichua  is  still  spoken  by  more  than  two  million  people,  and  corresponds, 
in  a measure,  to  the  Tupi-Guarani — lingoa  geral — which  is  spoken  in  Brazil, 
Paraguay  and  a part  of  Argentina.  According  to  the  Vocabulario  Poliglota 
Incaico,  p.  V,  Lima,  1905,  published  by  the  Franciscan  missionaries  of  the 
colleges  of  Propaganda  Fide  of  Peru,  “four-fifths  of  the  inhabitants  of  Peru 


229 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

and  the  evolution  of  music  and  poetry,  like  that  which  ob- 
tained wherever  Quichua  was  spoken;  and  the  creation  of 
a system  of  civil  and  military  administration,  like  that  of 
the  Incas,  would,  in  the  Old  World,  have  required  not 
three  or  four  centuries,  as  Garcilaso  would  have  us  be- 
lieve, but  a period  of  time  more  nearly  approaching  three 
or  four  thousand  years.  To  contend  that  less  time  would 
have  been  needed  in  the  New  World,  where  conditions  were 
less  favorable  than  in  the  Old,  is  to  go  counter  to  all  the 
teachings  of  history  and  archaeology,  and  make  claims  that 
cannot  be  substantiated  by  what  we  know  of  the  progress 
of  our  race  in  other  parts  of  the  world.1 

Garcilaso,  in  his  description  of  the  imperial  city  of 


speak  the  Quichua  language,  and  of  these  only  a relatively  small  fraction 
speak  Spanish  also,  while  very  many  do  not  even  understand  it.” 

i Markham,  after  discussing  the  list  of  Kings  of  the  Pirua  and  Amauta 
dynasties  given  by  Montesinos,  concludes : “It  may  be  that  the  Pirua  and 

Amauta  dynasties  may  possibly  represent  the  sovereigns  of  the  megalithic 
empire.  Its  decline  and  fall  were  followed  by  centuries  of  barbarism,  so  that 
the  people  had  almost  forgotten  its  existence,  while  the  tribes  of  the  Callao 
were  probably  of  another  race,  descendants  of  the  invaders.  As  the  Bible 
and  the  literature  and  art  of  Greece  and  Rome  were  preserved  through  cen- 
turies of  barbarism  by  the  monasteries,  so  the  religion  and  civilization  of 
the  megalithic  empire  were  preserved  through  centuries  of  barbarism  by  the 
Amautas  of  Tampu-tocco.  In  one  case  the  dark  period  was  succeeded  by  the 
age  of  the  Renaissance,  in  the  other  by  the  enlightened  rule  of  the  Incas.” 
The  Incas  of  Peru,  pp.  46-47.  Cf.  also,  El  Peru  Antiguo  y los  Modernos 
Sociologos,  Lima,  1908,  by  Victor  Andres  Belaunde,  who  holds  that  “The 
Incas  systematized  tribal  and  social  organizations  which  had  existed  from 
remote  antiquity,  and  did  not  create  them,”  and  the  German  sociologist  Cunow, 
who,  in  his  Organization  of  the  Empire  of  the  Incas,  contends  that  there 
existed  in  Peru  from  the  earliest  times  “separate  groups — ayllus — organized 
on  the  same  base  as  the  village  communities  of  India  and  the  German  mark,” 
and  that  the  communism  of  the  Children  of  the  Sun  was  not  a system  con- 
ceived by  the  Incas  and  brought  into  practice  by  means  of  conquests  and 
clever  alliances.  “Similar  views  are  held  by  the  Belgian  sociologist,  William 
de  Greef,  by  the  distinguished  Peruvian  writer,  Don  Jos6  de  la  Riva  Aguero, 
and  by  Don  Bautista  Saavedra,  a Bolivian.  Belaunde  is,  therefore,  right  in 
declaring  that  “this  hypothesis  has  caused  a complete  revolution  in  the 
manner  of  considering  the  rule  of  the  Incas,”  and  shows  the  necessity  of  re- 
vising the  conclusions  of  Robertson,  Prescott  and  other  writers  on  Peruvian 
civilization,  who  have  assumed  that  “the  whole  fabric  was  originated  and 
matured  by  the  Incas,  and  constructed,  as  it  were,  out  of  chaos.” 


230 


THE  ROME  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


Cuzco,  writes:  “It  was  the  misfortune  of  my  country 

that,  although  it  produced  sons  who  were  distinguished  as 
warriors,  and  others  who  were  learned  and  able  in  study- 
ing the  arts  of  peace ; yet,  owing  to  the  want  of  letters,  no 
memorial  was  preserved  of  their  noble  deeds  and  mem- 
orable sayings.”  1 

This  statement  of  the  Inca  historian  long  remained  un- 
questioned. It  was  averred  that  the  only  means  the  Pe- 
ruvian amautas — wise  men — had  of  preserving  traditions, 
was  certain  knotted  cords — quipus — which,  to  say  the 
least,  were  most  inefficient  instruments  for  recording  and 
transmitting  knowledge.  Sarmiento,  however,  tells  us 
positively  that  the  annals  of  the  Inca  empire  “were  painted 
on  great  boards  and  deposited  in  the  temple  of  the 
Sun,  in  a great  hall.  There  such  boards  adorned  with  gold, 
were  kept  as  in  our  libraries,  and  learned  persons  were  ap- 
pointed who  were  well  versed  in  the  art  of  understand- 
ing and  declaring  their  contents.  No  one  was  allowed  to 
enter  where  these  boards  were  kept,  except  the  Inca  and 
the  historians,  without  a special  order  from  the  Inca.”  2 

From  the  vague  information  we  have  about  these  an- 
nals, they  were  preserved  in  a kind  of  picture  writing  not 
unlike  that  which  obtained  among  the  Aztecs.  If,  how- 
ever, we  are  to  credit  Montesinos,  alphabetic  characters 
were  employed  as  early  as  the  reign  of  the  third  Pyr-hua, 
Huayna  Cavi.  The  amautas  taught  reading  and  writing 
and  used  dried  plantain  leaves  in  lieu  of  paper.3 

The  use  of  letters  continued  until  the  time  of  Pacha- 

1 Op.  cit.,  Lib.  VII,  Cap.  VIII. 

2 History  of  the  Incas,  p.  42,  trans.  by  Clements  R.  Markham,  and  printed 
for  the  Hakluyt  Society,  Cambridge,  1907.  Molina,  op.  cit.,  p.  4,  also  informs 
us  that  “They  had  the  life  of  each  one  of  the  Incas,  with  the  lands  they 
conquered,  painted  with  figures  on  certain  boards,  and  also  their  origin.” 

3 “Cuando  este  principe  reinaba,  habia  letras  y hombres  doetos  en  ellas,  que 
llaman  amautas,  y estos  enseHaban  ft  leer  y escribir;  la  principal  ciencia 
era  la  astrologia;  ft  lo  que  he  podido  alcanzar,  escribian  en  hoyas  de  pla- 
tanos;  secabanlas  y luego  escribian  en  ellas,”  Memorias  Antiguas  Historiales 
y Politicas  del  Peru,  p.  23,  por  el  Licenciado  D.  Fernando  Montesinos,  edited 
by  M.  Jimenez  de  la  Espada,  Madrid,  1882. 

231 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


cuti  VI,  who  reigned  three  thousand  years  after  the  Del- 
uge, when  there  ensued  for  Peru  a period  corresponding  to 
the  Dark  Ages  in  Europe,  when  science  and  letters  under- 
went a temporary  eclipse.  Five  hundred  years  later,  the 
same  writer  tells  us,  Tupac  Cauri,  the  seventy-eighth  ruler, 
proscribed  the  use  of  paper  and  alphabetical  characters 
in  writing  and,  under  penalty  of  death,  replaced  them 
by  the  quipus.1 

The  statements  of  Montesinos,  Monlina  and  similar  con- 
firmatory evidence  that  might  be  adduced,  seem  to  indicate 
that,  contrary  to  the  generally  received  opinion,  the  pred- 
ecessors of  the  Incas  had  a written  language,  and  that 
the  Incas  themselves  had  likewise  a written  language,  or 
something  that  was  very  nearly  its  equivalent.2 

But,  be  this  as  it  may,  it  is  certain  that  with  or  without 
a system  of  writing,  the  chronicles  of  the  Incas  were  care- 
fully kept  and  handed  down  from  generation  to  generation. 
It  is  certain  also  that  they  had  quite  an  extensive  litera- 
ture, most  of  which  unfortunately  has  been  lost  or  de- 
stroyed. The  greater  part  of  what  remains  is  composed 
of  songs,  elegiac  poems  and  a drama  called  Ollantay,  which 
has  appeared  in  many  editions  and  has  been  translated  into 
several  languages.  It  has  also  been  made  the  libretto  of 
an  opera  which  has  met  with  a very  favorable  reception. 

As  a sample  of  the  soft,  rich  and  beautiful  language 
of  the  Incas  still  spoken  by  a great  part  of  the  people  of 
Peru,  I subjoin  a harvest  song  from  the  drama  of  Ollan- 
tay, which  is  still  sung  by  the  Indians  when  traveling  or 

1 “Tupac  Cauri,  mando  por  ley,  que,  so  pena  de  la  vida,  ninguno  tratase 

de  quilcas,  que  eran  pergaminos  y ciertas  hojas  de  arboles  en  que  escribian, 
ni  usasen  de  ninguna  manera  de  letras.  . . . Y asi,  desde  este  tiempo, 

usaron  de  hilos  y quipos.”  Ibid.,  86. 

2 As  late  as  the  eighteenth  century,  it  is  averred,  some  plantain-leaf 
manuscripts  with  hieroglyphs  and  other  characters  were  found  among  the 
Panos  Indians  on  the  banks  of  the  Ucayli.  These,  according  to  their  owners, 
contained  the  history  of  their  ancestors.  May  not  these  manuscripts  have 
been  carefully  preserved  remnants  of  some  of  the  records  to  which  Montesinos 
refers?  And  if  so,  may  we  not  hope  that  other  similar  manuscripts  may 
eventually  be  discovered  by  the  explorer  in  Andean  lands  ? 

232 


THE  ROME  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


when  collecting  the  harvest.  It  is  addressed  to  a little  finch 
called  the  Tuya,  warning  it  against  its  ravages  in  the  corn- 
fields. I have  frequently  heard  it  sung  by  the  plaintive 
voices  of  the  Quichuas  in  the  uplands  of  Peru  and  each 
succeeding  time  with  increased  pleasure.  It  is  as  follows : 


HARVEST  SONG 
From  the  drama  of  Ollantay. 


“O  bird,  forbear  to  eat 
The  crops  of  my  princess. 

Do  not  thus  rob 
The  maize  which  is  her  food. 
Tuyallay,  Tuyallay. 

* ‘ The  fruit  is  white, 

And  the  leaves  are  tender, 

As  yet  they  are  delicate; 

I fear  your  perching  on  them. 
Tuyallay,  Tuyallay. 

“Your  wings  shall  be  cut, 

Your  nails  shall  be  torn, 

And  you  shall  be  taken, 

And  closely  encaged. 
Tuyallay,  Tuyallay. 

“This  shall  be  done  to  you, 
When  you  eat  a grain; 

This  shall  be  done  to  you, 
When  a grain  is  lost. 

Tuyallay,  Tuyallay.” 


“Ama  pisco  micupchu 

' Nustallaipa  chacranta 
Manan  hina  tucuichu 
Ilillacunan  saranta. 

Tuyallay,  Tuyallay. 

“Panaccaymi  rurumi 
Ancha  cconi  munispa 
Nuemunacemi  uccumi 
Llullunacmi  raphinpas, 
Tuyallay,  Tuyallay. 

* ‘ Phurantatac  mascariy 
Cuchusaccmi  silluta 
Pupasccayquim  ceantapas 
Happiscayquin  ceantapas. 
Tuyallay,  Tuyallay. 

“Hinasccatan  ricunqui 
Hue  rurunta  chapehacctin 
Hinac  taccmi  ricunqui 
Hae  llallapas  chincacctin. 
Tuyallay,  Tuyallay.” 


This  little  song,  however,  gives  hut  a faint  idea  of  the 
merits  of  the  drama,  taken  as  a whole.  To  he  appreci- 
ated, it  should  he  read  as  translated  and  commented  by 
Tschudi  or  Markham  or  Zegarra,  when,  by  reason  of  cer- 
tain peculiarities  of  form,  one  will  be  reminded  more  than 
once  of  the  lyrical  dramas  of  iEschylus. 

233 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


The  very  existence  of  such  a work,  so  replete  with  tragic 
power  and  beauty  of  expression,  is  the  best  possible  evi- 
dence of  the  literary  ability  of  the  haravaecs — poets — who 
graced  the  courts  of  the  Incas.  It  shows  with  what  success 
literature  was  cultivated  by  the  Children  of  the  Sun,  and 
supports  the  statements  made  by  Montesinos  of  the  exist- 
ence, at  an  early  period,  of  a higher  degree  of  civilization 
among  the  dynasty  of  the  Peruvians  than  anything  that 
ever  obtained  during  the  dynasty  of  the  Incas,  as  we  know 
it  from  the  pages  of  Garcilaso  de  la  Vega. 

I call  special  attention  to  the  language  and  literature  of 
the  Quichuas  because  I am  convinced  that  neither  the  one 
nor  the  other  has  yet  received  the  attention  it  deserves. 
The  language  has  usually  been  classed  with  the  hundred 
other  polysynthetic  tongues  of  South  America,  while  both 
the  literary  remains  and  the  literature  have  either  been 
ignored  or  put  on  the  same  plane  as  the  crude  legends  and 
folklore  of  the  nomadic  tribes  of  the  Argentine  pampas 
and  the  Amazonian  forests. 

Nothing  could  be  wider  from  the  truth,  for  if  the  agglu- 
tinative language  of  the  Quichuas  lacks  the  copious  vocab- 
ulary of  some  of  our  inflectional  tongues,  it  is  not,  there- 
fore, devoid  of  richness  and  harmony  and  the  capacity  of 
expressing  the  most  delicate  shades  of  thought.  For  this 
reason,  if  for  no  other,  it  is  deserving  of  more  attention 
than  it  has  received  from  philologists. 

A careful  study  of  Quichua  and  the  closely  allied  tongues 
will,  I feel  sure,  contribute  much  toward  the  solution  of 
the  long-discussed  question  regarding  the  origin  of  the 
ancient  Peruvians,  and  will  help  materially  toward  estab- 
lishing their  connection  with  certain,  as  yet  unknown, 
peoples  of  the  Old  World.  No  field  of  research  in  the 
Western  Hemisphere  promises  more  important  results  than 
the  erstwhile  empire  of  the  Incas.  What  is  practically  a 
virgin  soil  waits  the  shovel  and  the  pick  of  the  investiga- 
tor. A beginning,  it  is  true,  has  been  made  by  Tschudi, 
Rivero,  Stiibel,  Uhle  and  others,  but  so  far  the  ground  has 

234 


THE  ROME  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 

been  barely  grazed.  The  works  of  Lopez  and  Pablon  show 
what  we  may  expect  from  a comparative  study  of 
Quichua,  while  the  existence  of  the  drama  of  Ollontay 
should  be  an  incentive  to  a systematic  search  for  other  and 
similar  works  of  a bygone  age,  which  there  is  reason  to 
believe  are  still  in  existence. 

The  treasures  that  are  every  year  rewarding  the  labors 
of  the  zealous  students  in  the  lands  of  the  Nile  and  the 
Euphrates,  are  an  indication  of  what  we  may  expect  be- 
neath the  long-neglected  ruins  of  the  palaces  and  huacas 
of  Tahuantin — suyu.  Hitherto  the  excavations  conducted 
among  them  have  been  mostly  for  buried  treasures,  and 
little  thought  has  been  given  to  the  immense  archaeological 
value  of  the  strange  objects  that  have  been  brought  to 
light. 

In  every  part  of  Peru  there  are  monuments  covered  with 
strange  inscriptions  awaiting  the  discovery  of  the  key  that 
shall  enable  the  student  to  decipher  their  meaning.  From 
the  little  that  has  already  been  accomplished,  we  are  jus- 
tified in  hoping  that  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when  their 
phonetic  value  shall  be  made  known.  Then,  perhaps,  we 
shall  have  the  alphabet  which  Montesinos  tells  us  was 
used  by  the  Pyr — Huas,  and  then,  too,  shall  we  be  in  a 
fair  way  towards  having  something  like  a history  of  those 
early  races  that  first  peopled  the  lofty  tablelands  between 
the  eastern  and  western  Cordilleras. 

The  world  had  to  wait  four  thousand  years  before  the 
accidental  finding  of  the  Rosetta  stone  furnished  Cham- 
pollion  with  the  key  to  the  hieroglyphics  in  which  was  writ- 
ten the  fascinating  story  of  the  Pharaohs.  It  had  to  wait 
an  equally  long  time  until  a Rawlinston  deciphered  the 
curious  inscription  on  the  great  rock  of  Beheston,  and  dis- 
closed the  meaning  of  those  bizarre  cuneiform  characters 
which  held  within  their  mystic  grasp  the  records  of  Nin- 
eveh and  Babylon,  and  many  ill-understood  episodes  in 
the  history  of  the  children  of  Israel.  The  Moabite  stone, 
found  near  the  Dead  Sea  a few  decades  ago,  precious 

235 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


papyri  recently  discovered  in  the  Nile  island  of  Elephan- 
tine, and  above  all  the  Hittite  inscriptions  on  the  Tel-el- 
Armana  tablets  found  in  Egypt,  in  1887,  establishing  the 
existence  of  an  empire  which  was  before  regarded  as  myth- 
ical, should  demonstrate  what  patient  and  well-directed 
research  will  accomplish,  and  what  great  results  are  often 
obtained  from  the  finding  of  apparently  trivial  objects. 

One  may  not  predict  what  treasures  are  awaiting  the 
trained  archaeologist  among  the  long-neglected  monuments 
of  Peru,  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  they  will  well  re- 
pay him  for  all  the  time  and  labor  that  he  may  expend  in 
securing  them.  If  the  land  of  the  Incas  could  but  interest 
the  activities  of  an  organization  like  the  Palestine  Explo- 
ration Fund,  it  is  reasonably  certain  that  results  would 
soon  be  forthcoming  that  would  surprise  the  most  enthu- 
siastic Americanist  and  delight  the  hearts  of  those  few  ar- 
dent explorers  who  have  deserved  so  well  of  Peru  and 
every  lover  of  prehistoric  lore.  Thanks  to  the  numerous 
and  systematic  explorations  that  have  been  made  in  the 
City  of  the  Seven  Hills,  the  late  historian  Mommsen  knew 
more  of  the  Rome  of  Romulus  and  Augustus  than  did 
Cicero  or  Livy.  And  it  is  not  too  much  to  hope  that  in 
the  not  distant  future  the  historian  of  Peru  will  be  able 
to  tell  us  many  things  regarding  the  Incas  and  their  pred- 
ecessors about  which  the  learned  Inca  Grarcilaso  never 
dreamed. 

While  engrossed  with  these  and  similar  reflections  sug- 
gested by  the  storied  past  of  the  Children  of  the  Sun,  and 
by  the  cyclopean  walls  whose  massive  monoliths  challenged 
our  admiration  at  every  step,  we  were  gradually  wending 
our  way  towards  the  southern  side  of  Sacsahuaman  which 
overlooks  the  famous  valley  of  Cuzco. 

Here  a truly  magnificent  picture  greeted  our  enchanted 
gaze.  At  the  foot  of  the  sheer,  precipitous  mountain  side 
was  Cuzco,  a city  that  was  once  to  the  subjects  of  the 
Incas  what  Mecca  is  to  every  true  Mohammedan.  It  was 
to  them,  as  its  name  implies,  the  navel  of  the  world,  as 

236 


THE  ROME  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


was  Delphi  to  the  Greeks.  It  was  to  them  what  the  Capital 
on  the  Tiber  was  to  the  Roman — Urbs — the  city  par  excel- 
lence; what  Jerusalem  was  to  the  Crusader,  the  city  of  the 
heart’s  desire.  All  who  were  brought  under  the  dominion 
of  the  Incas  “were  taught,”  as  Polo  de  Ondegardo  informs 
us,  “that  Cuzco  was  the  abode  and  home  of  the  gods. 
Throughout  that  city  there  was  not  a fountain,  nor  a path- 
way, nor  a wall  which  they  did  not  say  contained  some 
mystery.”1  Nor  was  this  all.  Garcilaso  assures  us  that 
“One  of  the  principal  idols  of  the  kings  Incas  and  their 
vassals  was  the  imperial  city  of  Cuzco,  which  the  Indians 
worshipped  as  a sacred  thing,  both  because  it  was  founded 
by  the  first  Inca,  Manco  Capac,  and  on  account  of  the 
innumerable  victories  which  have  been  won  by  its  citizens. 
It  was  also  venerated  as  the  court  and  home  of  the  Incas. 
This  veneration  was  so  great  that  it  was  shown  in  even 
very  small  things.  For  if  two  Indians  of  equal  rank  met 
each  other  in  the  road,  one  coming  from  and  the  other 
going  to  Cuzco,  he  who  was  coming  from  the  city  was 
accosted  by  the  other  as  a superior,  because  he  had  been 
at  Cuzco,  and  this  respect  was  shown  with  more  solemnity 
if  the  traveler  was  a resident,  and  still  more  if  he  was  a 
native  of  the  capital.  The  same  feeling  prevailed  as 
regards  seeds  and  pulses,  or  anything  else.  Whatever 
came  from  Cuzco,  although  in  reality  not  superior,  was 
preferred  solely  for  that  reason.”  2 

And  how  beautiful  it  still  is  in  spite  of  all  the  vicissitudes 
through  which  it  has  passed!  Although  the  temple  of  the 
Sun  and  the  house  of  the  virgins  consecrated  to  its  service 
have  long  been  stripped  of  their  glories ; although  but  little 
remains  of  the  palaces  of  the  Incas,  except  the  foundation 
and  an  occasional  wall,  the  picture  of  the  city,  as  viewed 
from  Sacsahuaman,  is  one  of  rarest  loveliness.  If  the 

1 Que  aquella  ciudad  de  Cuzco  era  casa  y morada  de  dioses,  y casi  no  habia 
en  toda  ella  fuente  ni  pozo  ni  pared  que  no  dijesen  que  tenia  misterio. 
R-elacio. 

2 Op.  cit.,  Lib.  Ill,  Cap.  IX. 


237 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


stately  edifices  of  the  Incas  are  no  more,  there  are,  in  their 
stead,  some  of  the  most  ornate  and  imposing  structures  in 
the  New  World.  There  are  the  superb  churches  and  im- 
pressive convents,  testifying  to  the  faith  and  the  zeal  of 
people  who  profess  another  faith  and  owe  allegiance  to 
another  ruler. 

Nowhere  else,  to  my  thinking,  is  there  a city  that  presents 
a picture  so  charming  and  at  the  same  time  so  imposing 
as  Cuzco,  as  seen  from  the  heights  of  its  ruined  citadel. 
Not  Sparta,  as  seen  from  a crumbling  watch-tower  of  long 
deserted  Mistra;  not  Athens,  as  viewed  from  the  beauteous 
temple  of  the  Parthenon;  not  Eome,  as  it  meets  the  view 
of  the  spectator  on  the  summit  of  the  Janiculum.  Each 
of  these  noted  places,  considered  as  a panorama,  has  its 
beauties  and  attractions,  but  none  of  them  has  the  advan- 
tage of  location,  the  majestic  and  picturesque  surroundings 
of  Cuzco.  Situated  at  the  head  of  a salubrious  and  pro- 
ductive bolson — a pocket-like  valley — and  surrounded  on 
all  sides,  except  where  a narrow  canon  affords  egress  to 
the  waters  of  the  Huatanay,  by  the  mighty  harriers  of  the 
Cordilleras,  it  is  a picture  that  for  beauty  of  location  and 
artistic  setting  cannot  be  duplicated,  much  less  surpassed. 

What  must  the  city  have  been  in  the  days  of  Huayna 
Capac,  the  Augustus  of  the  Incan  empire,  when  its  palaces 
and  temples  were  yet  standing  and  adorned  with  their 
untold  treasures  of  silver  and  gold!  What  must  it  have 
been  when  Sacsahuaman,  fresh  from  the  hands  of  its  build- 
ers, towered  aloft  like  a Gibraltar  or  an  Ehrenbreitstein — 
typical  of  the  power  of  the  Incas — the  palladium  of  the 
Children  of  the  Sun,  and  the  terror  of  their  enemies ; when 
Huayna  Capac  returning  from  a victorious  campaign  held 
military  maneuvers  on  this  rock,  with,  as  an  old  chronicler 
informs  us,  “fifty  thousand  men  all  armed  with  gold  and 
silver” ! 

Not  so  imposing,  it  is  true,  as  the  Rome  of  the  Csesars, 
with  its  superb  structures  of  polished  marble,  when  some 
victorious  general,  enjoying  the  honors  of  a triumph,  en- 

238 


Pulpit  in  the  Church  of  San  Blas,  Cuzco, 

MADE  BY  AN  INDIAN  ARTIFICER. 


Threshing  and  Winnowing  Wheat  in  the  Valley  of  Cuzco. 


THE  ROME  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


tered  the  imperial  city  surrounded  by  the  trophies  of  con- 
quest, amid  the  joyous  acclamations  of  myriads  of  grateful 
people.  But  it  was  imposing  enough  and  gorgeous  enough 
to  strike  with  awe  even  those  of  the  conquistadores  who 
were  familiar  with  the  wealth  and  the  splendor  of  the 
noblest  capitals  of  Europe. 

I do  not  for  a moment  credit  the  story,  so  long  accepted 
as  true,  that  the  population  of  Cuzco  in  the'  time  of  the 
Incas  amounted  to  two  hundred  thousand  or  more.  It 
was  undoubtedly  much  less  than  this — probably  much  less 
than  one-half  this  number.  Still  less  credible  is  the  state- 
ment of  Salcamayhua  that  Huascar  had  three  million  men 
in  his  army,  and  that  the  forces  of  his  enemy  counted 
half  that  number.1  In  area  the  Inca  empire  was  greater 
than  that  of  Charlemagne,  and  as  extensive  as  that  of 
Cassar  Augustus,  but  it  is  doubtful,  notwithstanding  what 
is  usually  asserted  to  the  contrary,  whether  the  population 
of  this  territory  was  ever  as  great  before  the  conquest  as 
it  is  to-day.  The  extravagant  statements  so  often  made, 
regarding  the  teeming  millions  within  the  dominions  of 
the  Children  of  the  Sun  before  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards 
— millions  that,  we  are  asked  to  believe,  were  almost  exter- 
minated by  the  cruelty  of  their  conquerors — will  not  bear 
serious  investigation.  For,  outside  of  Cuzco,  Quito,  Chimu 
and  Cajamarca  there  were  no  great  centers  of  population, 
and  even  in  these  places  the  number  of  inhabitants  has 
been  greatly  exaggerated.  In  a country  like  the  empire 
of  the  Incas,  where  there  was  so  much  arid  and  unpro- 
ductive land,  in  spite  of  the  extensive  tracts  under  irriga- 
tion, and  where  none  of  our  domestic  animals  existed,  the 
means  of  subsistence  were  not  only  necessarily  limited,  but 
they  were  also  totally  inadequate  to  meet  the  demands  of 
the  dense  population  — ten  millions  and  more  — about 
which  certain  writers  have  waxed  so  eloquent. 

And  no  more  worthy  of  credence  are  certain  stories  of 
Inca  prowess  and  conquest  with  which  some  of  the  early 

1 Op.  cit.,  p.  115. 


239 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


writers  delight  to  regale  their  readers — stories  that  are 
more  worthy  of  the  pages  of  Orlando  Furioso  than  of  sober 
history.  Yet  there  are  certain  well-attested  facts  in  the 
campaigns  of  Huayna  Capac  and  Tupac  Yupanqui,  while 
crossing  the  lofty  crests  of  the  Andes  in  Quito  and  Chile, 
which  fairly  rival  any  similar  achievements  by  Hannibal 
or  Napoleon,  and  show  that  these  two  Incas  had  military 
genius  of  the’  highest  order. 

When  one  contemplates  the  splendid  location  of  Cuzco, 
and  considers  what  the  Incas  were  able  to  achieve  from 
this  city  as  a base,  one  marvels  why  the  Spaniards  did  not 
retain  it  as  the  capital  of  the  viceroyalty  instead  of  trans- 
ferring it  to  Lima.  The  location  is  far  more  beautiful 
than  that  of  either  Quito  or  Bogota — although  both  of  these 
cities  are  remarkable  for  the  beauty  of  their  sites — while 
it  is  more  readily  accessible  than  either  of  these  capitals, 
and  nearer  to  the  great  highways  of  the  world’s  com- 
merce. 

Among  the  descendants  of  the  Children  of  the  Sun 
there  is  an  instinctive  feeling,  born  probably  of  age- 
long desire,  that  the  capital  of  their  Incas  is  one  day 
to  regain  its  pristine  ascendency.  This  may  seem  like  a 
hope  based  on  the  stuff  that  dreams  are  made  of,  but 
is  it? 

The  greatest  drawback  to  the  development  of  Cuzco,  the 
chief  reason  why  the  seat  of  the  viceroyalty  was  trans- 
ferred from  it  to  Lima,  was  the  lack  of  means  of  com- 
munication with  the  rest  of  the  world.  With  the  recent 
completion  of  the  railroad  to  the  city,  this  drawback  has 
been  removed.  When  now  it  shall  be  put  into  direct  com- 
munication with  the  capital  and  the  cities  on  the  plateau 
to  the  north,  by  means  of  the  railroad  now  rapidly  ap- 
proaching completion;  when,  furthermore,  it  shall  be  con- 
nected by  projected  branches  with  the  Ucayali  and  the 
Madre  de  Dios,  as  it  will  be  soon;  then  will  Cuzco  be  on 
the  highroad  of  progress,  and  then  will  she  once  more 
regain  partly,  if  not  entirely,  that  supremacy  which  was 

240 


THE  ROME  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 

hers  from  the  time  of  Manco  Capac  to  that  of  Francisco 
Pizarro.1 

The  reason  is  manifest.  She  is  to-day,  as  she  was  in  the 
time  of  the  Incas,  in  the  most  densely  populated  section  of 
Peru.  She  is  in  the  center  of  a territory  of  vast  riches  and 
untold  possibilities.  The  eastern  slope  of  the  Andes — 
the  Montana — has  scarcely  been  touched,  and  yet  it  is  the 
most  fertile  and  the  most  promising  part  of  the  republic. 
In  a few  years  more  she  will  be  in  a position  to  develop 
and  control  an  extensive  trade  in  the  upper  Amazon  basin. 
She  will  also  be  on  the  great  pan-American  railway  that 
is  to  connect  Buenos  Ayres  with  New  York. 

When  that  day  comes,  and  it  is  not  far  distant,  the  dream 
of  the  long-expectant,  long-suffering  Quichua  Indians  will 
be  realized,  and  the  old  Inca  capital  will  again  be  the  happy 
home  of  tens  of  thousands,  who  are  still  as  loyal  to  the 
memory  of  their  departed  rulers  as  they  were  in  the  trying 
days  of  the  viceroy,  Don  Francisco  Toledo,  who  ordered 
the  execution  of  their  revered  Inca  Tupac  Amaru.2  Then, 
too,  will  the  noble  old  city  of  the  Sun  be  animated  by  a 
new  life,  and  enter  upon  a new  era  of  prosperity,  even  as 
did  the  languishing  city  of  the  Popes  after  the  return 
of  Gregory  XI  from  Avignon. 

1 The  present  population  of  Cuzco  is  less  than  twenty  thousand,  although 
it  has  been,  even  in  recent  times,  much  greater. 

2 When  Toledo  appeared  before  Philip  II,  after  his  return  to  Spain,  it  is 

reported  that  the  monarch  said  to  him:  “Go  hence  to  your  own  house.  You 

were  not  sent  to  Peru  to  kill  kings,  but  to  serve  them.”  Idos  a vuestra  casa, 
que  yo  os  envifc  a servir  reyes;  y vos  fuiste  a matar  reyes. 


241 


CHAPTER  XIV 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  KINGS 

Our  original  plan,  after  leaving  Cuzco,  was  to  return 
to  Lima  by  way  of  Abancay,  Ayacucho  and  Oroya.  This 
would  have  meant  a journey  of  several  hundred  miles  on 
horseback,  but  it  would  have  enabled  us  to  see  many  places 
on  the  plateau  that  are  celebrated  in  the  annals  of  Peru, 
many  places  of  great  archaeological  interest  and  many 
places,  too,  that  were  rendered  famous  by  the  exploits  of 
the  conquistadores  on  their  way  from  Cajamarca  to  the 
capital  of  the  Incas. 

Preeminently  noteworthy  among  the  towns  along  this 
route  is  Ayacucho,  near  which  was  fought  the  decisive 
battle  that  secured  Peruvian  independence.  There  is  also 
Jauja,  which,  for  a short  time  before  the  foundation  of 
Lima,  was  the  provisional  capital  of  Peru.  Both  Jauja 
and  Ayacucho,  not  to  mention  many  other  towns  of  greater 
or  lesser  importance,  are  on  the  line  of  the  projected  pan- 
American  railroad.  Work  on  the  section  between  Oroya 
and  Cuzco  is  being  pushed  forward  as  rapidly  as  possible 
and  when  completed,  the  traveler  will  be  able  to  make  the 
journey  between  Lima  and  the  old  Inca  capital  in  a small 
fraction  of  the  time  now  required. 

Much,  however,  as  we  desired  to  follow  our  original 
itinerary,  we  were  prevented  from  doing  so  by  pressing 
engagements  in  Lima.  Our  only  alternative,  therefore, 
was  to  return  by  the  way  we  came. 

We  saw  little  of  interest  on  the  return  trip,  that  we  had 
not  seen  before,  but  we  had  everywhere  renewed  experi- 
ences of  that  charming  hospitality  which  had  so  impressed 
us  on  our  way  from  the  Pacific  to  Cuzco.  At  San 

242 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  KINGS 


Jeronimo,  where  we  bade  adieu  to  our  scholarly  cicerone, 

Sr.  P ; at  Checacupe,  where  Mr.  Me entertained 

us  a second  time  in  his  usual  cordial  manner ; at  Arequipa, 

where  Sr.  T and  his  friends  gave  us  what  was  almost 

tantamount  to  the  freedom  of  the  city,  we  were  made  to 
forget  entirely  that  we  were  strangers  in  a strange  land. 
Our  every  wish  was  anticipated  and  our  every  want  divined 
in  a way  that  amazed  us  beyond  expression.  It  really 
seemed  as  if  our  good  friends  had  nothing  to  engage  their 
attention  but  our  comfort  and  pleasure.  What  particu- 
larly impressed  us  was  the  quiet,  gracious  manner  in  which 
everything  was  done.  We  were  treated  as  life-long 
friends,  or  as  members  of  the  family,  rather  than  as  guests, 
and  it  was,  consequently,  most  natural  for  us  at  once  to 
feel  at  home  and  at  our  ease.  How  could  it  be  otherwise 
among  a people  to  whom  hospitality  is  a traditional  char- 
acteristic and  entertainment  a cherished  art  as  well  as  a 
positive  virtue? 

Much  as  we  regretted  leaving  the  capital  of  the  Incas, 
we  were  delighted  to  be  again  in  the  capital  of  the  viceroys. 
It  is  in  many  respects  the  most  attractive  city  in  South 
America,  and  has  a fascination  about  it  that  is  entirely 
absent  from  larger  cities  like  Buenos  Aires  or  Eio  Janeiro. 
True,  it  cannot  boast  of  the  picturesque  location  of  Caracas 
or  Bogota,  Quito  or  Cuzco,  but  there  is  a glamour  about  it 
that  renders  it  quite  unique  among  the  capitals  of  the 
southern  continent.  No  sooner  is  the  visitor  within  its 
gates  than  he  feels  himself  under  the  spell  of  its  storied 
past  and  enchanting  environment. 

And  well  he  may.  For  a while  Lima  was  the  capital 
of  nearly  all  of  South  America,  except  Brazil,  and  the 
viceroy  of  Peru  was  the  ruler  of  a more  extensive  territory 
than  any  monarch  in  Europe.  It  is  true  that  he  was  sub- 
servient to  the  kings  of  Spain,  to  whom  he  owed  his  ap- 
pointment, but  owing  to  the  distance  of  Lima  from  the 
mother  country  and  the  difficulty  of  communication  when 
steam  navigation  and  the  telegraph  were  unknown,  the 

243 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


viceroy  of  Peru  had  practically  all  the  power  of  an  inde- 
pendent potentate.  Even  after  Quito,  New  Granada  and 
Venezuela  were  placed  under  separate  governments,  the 
sway  of  the  viceroy  of  Peru  extended  from  Guayaquil  to 
Cape  Horn,  and  from  the  impetuous  Rimac  to  the  broad 
embouchure  of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata. 

It  was  on  account  of  the  immense  extent  of  Peru,  and  his 
desire  to  be  where  he  could  more  readily  communicate 
with  Europe,  that  Pizarro  selected  Lima  as  the  capital 
rather  than  Cuzco  or  Jauja.  Both  of  these  being  so  high 
up  on  the  tableland  and  difficult  of  access,  were  unsuited 
for  the  great  political  and  commercial  metropolis  the  con- 
queror had  in  his  mind’s  eye  when  he  sought  a location 
for  the  capital  of  the  greatest  of  Spain’s  dependencies. 
The  site  on  the  river  Rimac,  near  an  Indian  village,  met 
his  requirements  as  did  no  other  spot.  It  was  at  the  base 
of  the  Cordillera,  on  a fertile  plain  and  but  two  leagues 
from  the  ocean,  where  there  was  one  of  the  best  harbors 
on  the  coast.  Unlike  Quito  and  Bogota,  it  was  accessible 
to  Spanish  merchantmen  and  could  easily  be  made  a dis- 
tributing center  for  merchandise  coming  from  or  destined 
for  the  Old  World. 

Having  once  decided  on  the  location  of  the  capital, 
Pizarro  lost  no  time  in  laying  its  foundations.  This  was 
formally  done  the  eighteenth  of  January,  1535.  And  as 
the  founder  had  always  entertained  a great  devotion 
towards  The  Three  Holy  Kings  and  as  their  feast  day,  the 
Epiphany,  had  occurred  but  twelve  days  before,  he  decided 
to  call  the  new  foundation  La  Ciudad  de  los  Reyes — the 
City  of  the  Kings.  This  name,  however,  was  not  long  used, 
except  in  official  documents.  It  soon  gave  place  to  Lima, 
from  Limac,  the  name  of  the  neighboring  Indian  village, 
as  well  as  the  name  of  the  river  which  flowed  by  it.1  On 

i Limac  is  a corruption  of  the  Quichua  word  Rimac,  the  participle  of  the 
verb  rimani,  to  speak.  The  village  was  so  called  because  of  the  sound  pro- 
duced by  the  swiftly  flowing  water  over  its  steep  rocky  bed,  or,  as  others 
declare,  because  of  an  idol  in  the  village  which  was  consulted  as  an  oracle. 


244 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  KINGS 


the  escutcheon,  which  Charles  V permitted  the  newly 
founded  capital  to  use,  the  city  was  designated  La  muy 
noble,  insigne  y muy  leal  Ciudad  de  los  Reyes  del  Peru — 
the  very  noble,  notable  and  very  loyal  city  of  the  Kings 
of  Peru. 

Before  the  erection  of  a single  house  was  permitted, 
Pizarro  had  a plan  of  the  city  drawn  on  paper.  And  in 
making  this  plan  he  had  in  view  not  the  small  number — 
only  sixty-nine — of  those  who  were  then  prepared  to  make 
their  homes  there,  but  the  future  greatness  of  “The  Empire 
City  of  the  New  World.” 

Moreover,  as  the  city  had  to  be  in  God  and  for  God  and 
in  His  name — en  Dios  y por  Dios  y en  su  nombre — to  use 
Pizarro ’s  own  words,  work  was  first  begun  on  the  church, 
which  was  named  Nuestra  Senora  de  La  Asuncion.1  The 
first  stone  and  the  first  pieces  of  timber  in  the  new  struc- 
ture were  put  in  place  by  the  hands  of  the  Adelantado 
himself,  who  wished,  like  the  other  conquistadores,  to  em- 
phasize his  zeal  for  religion  and  his  devotion  to  La  San- 
tisima  Virgen,  Madre  de  Dios. 

In  planning  the  City  of  the  Kings,  Pizarro  made  the 
squares  large  and  the  streets  unusually  wide.  This  latter 
feature  at  once  attracts  the  attention  of  the  visitor,  as  it 
is  in  such  marked  contrast  with  so  many  other  American 
cities  founded  about  the  same  time.  Charles  Dickens 
would  doubtless  find  the  same  fault  with  it  as  he  did  with 
Philadelphia;  for  Lima,  like  the  City  of  Brotherly  Love, 
could  also,  on  account  of  the  regularity  of  its  streets,  he 
called  “The  Gridiron  City.”  And  like  Washington,  it 
might  also  bear  the  name  of  “City  of  Magnificent  Dis- 
tances.” 

i Pizarro  gave  it  this  name  because  he  had  a special  devotion  to  our 
Lady  of  the  Assumption,  and  wished  to  have  the  first  cathedral  in  Peru 
named  in  her  honor.  As,  however,  the  first  episcopal  see  was  established  in 
Cuzco  and  not  in  Lima,  as  the  conqueror  had  anticipated,  the  title  of  Nuestra 
Senora  de  la  Asuncion  was  transferred  to  the  cathedral  of  Cuzco,  while  the 
first  church  in  Lima  was,  on  the  occasion  of  its  erection  into  a cathedral  in 
1543,  dedicated  under  the  invocation  of  St.  John  the  Evangelist. 

245 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


The  most  attractive  and  animated  part  of  Lima  is  un- 
doubtedly the  Plaza  Mayor,  around  which  are  grouped  the 
cathedral,  the  government  and  municipal  palaces  and  other 
imposing  structures.  Here  towards  evening  are  gathered 
the  beauty  and  the  fashion  of  the  capital,  and  one  is  sure 
to  find  les  dernieres  creations  of  the  Parisian  modiste  a 
few  weeks  after  they  make  their  appearance  on  the  boule- 
vards of  the  French  capital.  The  beautiful  toilets  of  the 
Limanian  ladies  are  probably  one  of  the  reasons  why  the 
City  of  the  Kings  has  long  been  known  as  the  Paris  of 
South  America,  for  it  requires  no  great  stretch  of  the 
imagination,  when  witnessing  the  beautifully  gowned 
senoritas  driving  along  the  Calle  de  la  Union,  or  in  the 
Paseo  Colon,  to  fancy  oneself  a spectator  of  the  brilliant 
turnouts  of  the  Champs  Elysees  or  of  the  Bois  de  Boulogne. 
One  could  then  easily  believe  that  there  was  a reason  for 
at  least  the  first  part  of  the  old  saying  that  “Lima  is  the 
heaven  of  women,  the  purgatory  of  men,  and  the  hell  of 
burros.”  1 

In  the  morning,  when  the  women,  in  their  sable  dress 
and  mantilla — which  have  long  replaced  the  famous  saya 
y manto — are  seen  going  to  or  returning  from  church,  the 
city  seems  like  an  immense  convent.  But  on  the  occasion 
of  great  national  or  church  celebrations,  and  especially 
during  the  carnival  season,  “Lima  is  no  more  than  a city 
of  Andalusia  transplanted  to  the  New  World,  with  all  the 
extravagances  of  the  romantic,  artistic  and  audacious  spirit 
of  old  Seville,  Malaga  and  Cordova.”  Then  the  entire 
atmosphere  is  redolent  of  the  past,  and  the  heavily-barred 
windows  and  miradores — Moorish  balconies — carry  one 
back  to  the  gay  and  splendid  festivities  of  viceroyal  mag- 
nificence. 

The  most  remarkable  and  most  imposing  building  in  the 
city,  and  the  one  that  first  claims  the  attention  of  the  vis- 
itor, is  the  cathedral.  It  occupies  the  site  of  the  church 

i In  Heylin’s  Cosmographie,  1654,  England  is  called  “The  paradise  of  women, 
the  purgatory  of  servants,  and  the  hell  of  horses.” 

246 


The  Cathedral  of  Lima. 


Copyright  by  Underwood  & Underwood. 


The  City  of  the  Kings. 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  KINGS 


built  by  Pizarro  nearly  four  centuries  ago.  It  is  copied 
to  a certain  extent  after  the  famous  cathedral  of  Seville, 
which  was  formerly  regarded  as  one  of  the  wonders  of  the 
world.  Although  the  Lima  temple  has  not  the  splendid 
Giralda  that  adds  such  beauty  to  its  wonderful  prototype, 
it  is,  nevertheless,  after  the  cathedral  of  the  City  of  Mexico, 
the  most  magnificent  place  of  worship  in  the  Western 
Hemisphere. 

The  interior  decorations  of  the  cathedral  are  in  keeping 
with  its  exterior  grandeur.  Among  these  are  its  richly 
adorned  altars  and  its  ornate  choir  of  artistically  carved 
cedar  and  mahogany.  There  is  also  a large  pipe  organ 
made  in  Belgium  and  said  to  be  the  best  in  South  America. 
Among  the  many  oil  paintings  is  a valuable  portrait  of 
St.  Veronica  by  Murillo,  bequeathed  to  the  church  by  a 
former  archbishop,  Mgr.  Luna-Pizarro. 

The  most  interesting  object  to  one  who  visits  the  cathe- 
dral for  the  first  time  is  the  remains  of  its  founder,  Fran- 
cisco Pizarro.  For  many  generations  they  were  preserved 
in  the  crypt,  in  which  some  of  the  viceroys  were  interred, 
and  which  has  also  been  used  as  a burial  place  for  the  arch- 
bishops. Here  also  repose  the  remains  of  his  daughter, 
Francisca,  by  Inez  Nusta,  niece  of  the  illustrious  Inca 
Huayna  Capac.1  All  that  is  mortal  of  the  illustrious  con- 
quistador now  reposes  in  one  of  the  side  chapels  of  the 

i “Di6  Dofia  Francisca  Pizarro  cinco  mil  pesos  oro,  por  estar  sepultado 
en  ella  el  Marques  D.  Francisco  Pizarro,  su  padre” — Dofia  Francisca  Pizarro 
gave  five  thousand  dollars  in  gold  because  her  father,  D.  Francisco  Pizarro, 
was  buried  in  it.  Thus  writes  Padre  Bernab6  Cobo,  whose  precious  work, 
Historia  de  la  fundacion  de  Lima,  written  in  1639,  remained  in  manuscript 
until  1882,  when  it  was  published  with  annotations  by  the  distinguished 
Peruvian  scholar,  Manuel  Gonzalez  de  la  Rosa.  The  same  work,  together 
with  Padre  Cobo’s  valuable  Historia  del  Nuevo  Mundo,  was  published  in 
Seville  in  1892  by  the  eminent  Americanist,  Marcos  Jimenez  de  la  Espada. 
I refer  especially  to  Padre  Cobo’s  work  on  Lima,  because  many  erroneous 
notions  have  obtained  regarding  the  City  of  the  Kings,  but  more  particularly 
because  many  modern  writers  have  expressed  doubts  about  the  burial  of 
Pizarro  in  the  cathedral.  Padre  Cobo’s  testimony  can  be  accepted  as  con- 
clusive. 

^ 


247 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

cathedral  and  may  be  seen  by  obtaining  the  necessary 
permission. 

While  contemplating  the  moldering  remains,1  partially 
concealed  by  dusty  tatters,  of  the  daring  and  invincible 
conqueror,  I recalled  the  words  of  Southey,  who  writes 
of  Pizarro: 


“A  greater  name 

The  list  of  Glory  boasts  not.  Toil  and  Pain, 

Famine  and  hostile  elements,  and  Hosts 
Embattled,  failed  to  check  him  on  his  course, 

Not  to  be  wearied,  not  to  be  deterred, 

Not  to  be  overcome.  A mighty  realm 
He  overran, 

And  wealth  and  power  and  fame  were  his  rewards.” 

And  yet,  strange  is  it  not?  there  is  not  a single  statue 
to  the  memory  of  Pizarro  in  the  whole  of  Peru.  There 
are  many  noble  monuments  in  Lima  erected  in  honor  of 
those  who  have  deserved  well  of  their  country  or  of  human- 
ity. There  are  monuments  commemorating  the  deeds  and 
the  prowess  of  Columbus,  Bolivar,  San  Martin,  Grrau  and 
Bolognesi,  but  not  a single  block  of  marble  or  a single 
plate  of  bronze  to  record  the  exploits  of  the  first  ruler  of 

i Lima,  writes  the  noted  Peruvian  writer,  Sr.  E.  Larrabure  y Unanue,  may 
feel  proud  to  be  in  possession  of  the  rich  treasure  of  these  remains,  for 
“They  personify  an  entire  epopee.  They  recall  a series  of  events  which 
seem  rather  to  belong  to  the  domain  of  fable  than  to  that  of  history;  from 
his  terrible  conflicts  with  the  Indians  and  with  nature  across  the  isthmus 
of  Panama  when  he  cut  his  way  to  the  South  Sea  and  had  his  brigantines 
transported  on  the  shoulders  of  his  men  from  one  ocean  to  the  other,  until 
the  heroic  resolution  taken  by  the  famous  thirteen — los  trece  de  la  fama — 
on  the  island  of  Gallo;  the  discoveries  and  explorations  from  Tumbez  to 
Cajamarca;  the  march  of  Hernando  and  a few  soldiers  to  the  coveted  temple 
of  Pachacamac;  the  sanguinary  scene  which  accompanied  the  captivity  of 
Atahualpa  and  the  downfall  of  the  empire,  and,  as  the  catastrophe,  the  in- 
testine wars  which  caused  to  fall  beneath  its  knife  the  two  brothers,  as  they 
were  called  in  the  good  times  of  their  intimacy;  Pizarro,  astute  and  dom- 
inant; Almagro,  trustful  and  generous;  but  both  victims  of  their  own 
audacity  and  their  lack  of  education.”  Monografias  Historico-Americanas,  p. 
354,  Lima,  1893. 


248 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  KINGS 


Peru — of  the  one  who  is  justly  regarded  as  among  the 
most  eminent  of  the  conquistadores. 

“Why  is  it?”  I asked  a distinguished  government  official 
in  Lima,  “that  you  have  no  statue  or  monument  of  any 
kind  to  the  memory  of  Pizarro?  You  have  erected  them 
in  honor  of  others  less  known  and  less  distinguished  for 
their  achievements?” 

“It  is  difficult  to  answer  that  question,”  was  the  reply. 
“The  only  reason  I can  assign  is  that  the  viceroys  and 
grandees  of  Spain  were  unwilling  to  honor  in  any  signal 
manner  one  of  such  low  birth  as  Pizarro.  An  ignorant 
swineherd,  horn  out  of  wedlock,  a soldier  of  fortune  unable 
to  write  his  own  name,  did  not  appeal  to  them  as  one 
worthy  of  special  distinction.  Then  again,  his  cruelty 
towards  the  Indians,  greatly  exaggerated,  I think,  and  his 
judicial  murder  of  Atahualpa  may  have  made  them  hesi- 
tate to  glorify  him  as  a hero  or  as  a benefactor  of  his  race. 
Personally,”  continued  my  informant,  “I  should  like  to 
see  a monument  to  Pizarro  in  one  of  the  plazas  of  the 
capital  he  founded,  and  I know  there  are  many  of  my 
opinion. 

“The  conqueror  of  Peru  had  his  faults,  no  doubt,  but 
many  of  them  should  be  attributed  to  the  age  in  which  he 
lived  rather  than  to  any  innate  depravity  or  moral  delin- 
quency of  the  man  himself.  Say  what  you  will,  the  achieve- 
ments of  the  man  rank  him  among  the  most  notable 
characters  of  all  time,  and  his  name  will  he  ever  insep- 
arably associated  with  some  of  the  most  brilliant  exploits 
recorded  in  the  annals  of  conquest.  There  are  hundreds 
of  shafts  and  statues  in  Europe  erected  to  the  memory  of 
men  who  have  not  a tithe  of  the  claim  to  distinction  that 
Pizarro  has,  and  I hope  the  day  will  soon  come  when  my 
country  will  give  formal  recognition — tardy  though  it  be — 
to  one  of  the  greatest  military  and  administrative  geniuses 
of  his  own  or  of  any  age.” 

My  informant  was  right.  We  may  not  like  the  con- 
queror of  Atahualpa,  but  we  must  admire  him.  After  an 

249 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


unfortunate  infancy  and  an  obscure  adolescence,  during 
which  he  had  none  of  the  advantages  of  home  training 
or  scholastic  instruction;  after  an  early  manhood  spent 
among  a profligate  soldiery  in  a desperate  struggle  against 
fortune,  the  impecunious  adventurer  becomes  the  master 
of  a more  extensive  empire  than  that  of  his  puissant  sov- 
ereign in  Europe.  An  iron  will  and  a rare  prudence  in 
the  hazards  of  war  and  the  ventures  of  business  enterprise 
always  secured  for  him  the  laurels  of  victory  and  the 
guerdon  of  success.  He  was  never  defeated  and  never 
taken  by  surprise.  Everywhere  he  went  in  Peru  he  left 
imperishable  monuments  of  his  passage.  In  less  than 
seven  years  he  founded  the  cities  of  Piura,  Trujillo,  Jauja, 
Huamanga,  Huanucco,  La  Plata,  Arequipa  and  Lima. 
In  addition  to  this,  he  contributed  materially  towards  the 
betterment  of  Tumbez,  Puerto  Viejo,  Cajamarca  and  Cuzco. 
He  laid  the  foundations  of  commerce  and  art,  industry 
and  agriculture,  and  made  special  provision  for  the  moral 
and  religious  development  of  his  subjects.  No  adventurer 
ever  conquered  a more  extensive  territory,  or  achieved 
so  much  with  so  little.  No  one  ever  gave  greater  riches 
to  the  land  of  his  birth,  no  one  spent  less  on  himself,  or 
more  in  furthering  the  best  interests  of  a conquered  coun- 
try. And,  although  he  had  command  of  almost  limitless 
resources  and  was  able  to  reward  his  lieutenants  with  pos- 
sessions richer  than  those  of  princes,  no  one  was  ever  more 
loyal  to  Spain  or  deserved  better  of  Peru. 

What  such  a man  might  have  become,  had  his  childhood 
and  youth  been  different,  and  had  he  enjoyed  the  advan- 
tages of  education  and  culture,  is  idle  to  speculate.  As 
it  was,  he  became,  by  the  sheer  force  of  genius  and  daring, 
one  of  the  greatest  and  most  successful  commanders  in 
history.  Had  he  possessed,  in  addition  to  genius  and  dar- 
ing, the  accomplishments  of  a Cortes  or  a Ximenes  de 
Quesada,  it  is  not  too  much  to  assert  that  he  would  now 
take  rank  with  such  transcendent  leaders  as  Caesar  and 
Bonaparte. 


250 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  KINGS 


Yet,  notwithstanding  all  his  limitations,  the  fact  still 
remains  that  Francisco  Pizarro  was  one  of  Spain’s  most 
distinguished  sons,  and  one  of  Peru’s  greatest  benefactors, 
and  as  such  his  memory  is  deserving  of  far  greater  honor 
than  it  has  yet  received.  As  the  conqueror  of  the  greatest 
empire  in  the  New  World,  as  the  founder  of  the  beautiful 
City  of  the  Kings,  he  is  entitled  to  the  noblest  and  the 
most  conspicuous  monument  in  the  capital  of  the  republic. 
But  whether  Peru  ever  honors  the  illustrious  conquistador 
in  this  manner  or  not,  it  matters  little,  so  far  as  his  fame 
is  concerned,  for  he  holds  a place  among  the  immortals 
from  which  he  can  never  be  dislodged.  In  the  words  of 
a gifted  Peruvian  poetisa, 

“Fundo  ciudades  y dejo  memorias, 

Que  eternas  quedaran  en  las  historias.  ’ ’ 1 

A short  distance  from  the  cathedral  is  the  admirable 
church  of  La  Merced.  It  is  notable  not  only  because  it  is 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  structures  in  the  city,  but  also 
because  its  foundation  is  due  to  Hernando  Pizarro,  the 
brother  of  the  conqueror.  One  of  the  greatest  ecclesi- 
astical functions  of  the  year  is  celebrated  in  this  church 
on  the  twenty-fourth  of  September,  the  feast  of  Nuestra 
Senora  de  la  Merced,  the  patroness  of  the  arms  of 
Peru.  The  president  of  the  republic  and  his  cabinet 
and  all  the  representatives  of  the  government  are  pres- 
ent at  this  celebration,  and  the  church  then  presents  a 
scene  of  splendor  that  is  rarely  witnessed  elsewhere 

i “He  founded  cities  and  left  a record  that  will  endure  as  long  as  history’s 
eternal  page.” 

After  this  work  was  ready  for  the  press  I was  glad  to  find  that  in  1892, 
on  the  occasion  of  the  removal  of  Pizarro’s  remains  to  the  chapel  in  which 
they  now  repose,  His  Grace,  Manuel  Tovar,  the  archbishop  of  Lima,  expressed 
himself  on  this  subject  as  follows: 

“God  grant  that  at  no  distant  day  we  may  all — sons  of  this  land  and 
strangers  who  visit  our  shores — be  able  to  salute  with  admiration  and  respect 
in  the  Plaza  Mayor  of  the  Peruvian  metropolis  the  glorious  statue  of  the 
conqueror  of  Peru  and  the  founder  of  Lima.”  Ilustracion  Espanola.  y Amer- 
icana, Aug.  22,  1892. 


251 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

outside  of  the  great  basilica  of  St.  Peter’s  in  the  Eternal 
City. 

Rivaling  the  church  of  Merced  and  the  cathedral  in 
beauty  and  grandeur  are  the  stately  and  massive  churches 
of  San  Francisco,  San  Augustin  and  San  Domingo — three 
edifices  that  would  command  admiration  in  Rome  or  Paris, 
so  famed  for  their  places  of  worship. 

San  Domingo  is  celebrated  as  being  the  last  resting- 
place  of  Santa  Rosa,  who  was  in  1670  declared  by  Clement 
X to  be  the  Patrona  Universal  y Principal  de  America, 
Filipinas  e Indias — patroness  of  all  the  Americas  and  the 
Philippine  Islands  and  the  Indies, — and  who  is,  as  the 
Roman  breviary  beautifully  expresses  it,  Primus  America 
Meridionalis  flos  sanctitatis — the  first  flower  of  sanctity 
of  South  America.1  Her  altar,  adorned  with  an  exquisite 
marble  image  of  the  saint,  donated  by  one  of  the  popes, 
is  one  of  the  most  charming  works  of  art  in  the  city.  It 
is  always  decked  with  fresh,  sweet-scented  roses,  and  at 
all  hours  of  the  day  one  will  find  crowds  of  people,  young 
and  old,  kneeling  in  silent  prayer  around  this  favorite 
shrine. 

Although  the  people  of  Lima  never  tire  of  sounding  the 
praises  of  their  sweet  little  Santa  Rosa,2  they  do  not  forget 
another  one  of  their  saints  to  whom  the  church  in  Peru 
is  deeply  indebted.  This  is  Santo  Toribio,  the  second 

1 Santa  Rosa  was  the  first  but  not  the  only  saint,  as  is  usually  asserted,  of 
South  America.  Lima  alone  claims  four  others  who  were  either  born  in 
Peru  or  who  chose  it  as  the  field  of  their  apostolic  labors  and  sanctified  them- 
selves on  its  soil.  These  are  St.  Francis  Solano,  a Friar  Minor,  the  apostle 
of  Tucuman;  St.  Toribio,  Blessed  Martin  Porres,  A Franciscan  Tertiary;  and 
Blessed  John,  Massias,  a Dominican  lay-brother,  who  was  born  and  died  in 
Lima.  Blessed  Marianna  de  Jesus,  known  as  the  Lily  of  Quito,  whose  life 
in  many  respects  resembled  that  of  Santa  Rosa,  should  also  be  classed  as  a 
Peruvian  saint,  for  the  province  of  Quito  was  long  a part  of  Peru. 

2 As  an  evidence  of  the  extraordinary  popularity  of  Santa  Rosa,  it  suffices 
to  observe  that  at  the  celebration  of  her  tercentenary  in  Lima  in  1886  it 
was  found  that  the  number  of  works  in  various  languages  treating  of  her  life 
and  virtues  amounted  to  nearly  three  hundred.  For  so  modern  a saint,  and 
one  whose  life  was  so  hidden,  this  is  truly  astonishing. 


252 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  KINGS 

archbishop  of  Peru.  He  was  born  in  Spain,  it  is  true,  but 
the  Peruvians  claim  him  as  their  own.  Like  the  great 
bishop  of  Chiapas,  Las  Casas,  he  was  remarkable  for  his 
labors  in  behalf  of  the  Indians,  among  whom  his  name  is 
still  held  in  benediction  in  all  parts  of  Peru. 

His  biographers  tell  us  that  during  the  twenty-five  years 
he  ruled  the  archdiocese  of  Lima,  the  saintly  prelate  spent 
eighteen  in  visiting  his  flock  and  that  the  distance  he  trav- 
eled during  this  time  was  nearly  twenty-five  thousand 
miles.  When  we  are  told  that  much  of  his  traveling  was 
done  afoot,  in  wild  and  distant  parts  of  the  country,  among 
inhospitable  and  almost  inaccessible  mountains,  where  at 
times  it  was  impossible  to  find  either  food,  drink  or  shelter, 
and  in  the  extremes  of  heat  and  cold,  we  can  form  some 
conception  of  the  strenuous  character  of  his  missionary 
career  and  of  the  magnitude  of  his  labors. 

During  these  visits  to  the  bleak  and  arid  puna  and  to 
the  sultry  montana  beyond  the  Cordilleras,  he  confirmed 
no  fewer  than  a million  souls,1  most  of  them  Indians,  who 
had  been  evangelized  by  zealous  missionaries  who  had  pre- 
ceded him.  Indeed  the  greatest  part  of  his  time  was  de- 
voted to  these  humble  and  scattered  sheep  of  his  flock, 
and  he  left  nothing  undone  to  secure  them  in  the  rights 
that  were  theirs  as  children  of  a common  Father.  He 
was  their  acknowledged  protector,  and  much  of  the  legis- 
lation that  had  its  origin  in  the  various  councils  and  synods 
convened  during  his  administration,  had  in  view  the  wel- 
fare of  these  longsuffering  victims  of  injustice  and  oppres- 
sion. He  was  a Charles  Borremeo  in  administrative  capac- 
ity, and  a Francis  Xavier  in  missionary  activity.  He  was 
in  very  truth  a man  of  God,  and  most  deserving  the  epithet 
“Apostle  of  Peru.”  2 

But  Lima  is  not  only  remarkable  for  its  churches  and 

1 Pope  Benedict  XIV,  De  Canonizatione  Sanctorum,  Lib.  Ill,  Cap.  XXXIV. 

2 Mirabilis  Vita  et  Miribiliora  Acta  Ven.  Servi  Dei  Turibii  Alphonsi  Mogro- 
besii,  Limanensis  Archiproesulis,  a Cipriano  Herrera,  Romae,  1670,  and  Vie 
de  Saint  Turibe,  par  Dorn  Berengier,  Paris,  1S72. 


253 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


saints,  it  is  also  distinguished  for  its  schools  and  scholars. 
Here  is  found  the  oldest  university  of  the  New  World, 
that  of  San  Marcos.  It  was  established  in  1551 — “fifty-six 
years  before  the  English  settlers  landed  in  Jamestown; 
fifty-eight  years  before  Hudson  sailed  into  the  bay  of  New 
York,  and  sixty-nine  years  before  the  Mayflower  touched 
the  shores  of  New  England.”  By  virtue  of  the  charter, 
it  enjoyed  all  the  honors  and  privileges  of  the  University 
of  Salamanca,  one  of  the  most  noted  seats  of  learning  in 
Europe.  It  proudly  points  to  a countless  number  of  its 
alumni  who  have  won  international  distinction  in  science, 
letters,  theology,  medicine  and  jurisprudence. 

Lima  was  also  the  first  city  in  the  New  World  to  have 
periodicals  like  our  modern  newspaper.  She  had  them, 
indeed,  when  but  few  cities  in  Europe  could  boast  of  such 
“Expeditious  messengers  of  intelligence.”  The  list  of 
works  that  came  from  the  Lima  press  in  the  seventeenth 
century  exceeded  four  hundred,  all  of  which  are  now  ex- 
tremely rare  and  highly  prized  by  bibliophiles. 

For  generations  Lima  was  the  center  of  learning  and 
culture  in  South  America.  Indeed,  during  the  whole  of 
the  colonial  period  it  was,  as  has  been  well  expressed,  la 
cabeza  y el  corazon — the  head  and  the  heart — of  the  south- 
ern continent.  The  literary  productions  of  her  sons  and 
daughters,  who  followed  the  schools  of  Seville  and  Anda- 
lusia, were  of  a high  order  of  merit,  and  in  many  instances 
compared  favorably  with  the  masterpieces  of  the  mother 
country.1 

But  the  literary  output  of  Peru  was  not  confined  to 
the  City  of  the  Kings.  Literature  was  cultivated  in  other 
parts  of  the  vicerovalty,  notably  in  Cuzco  and  Arequipa, 
and  with  such  success  as  to  deserve  the  unstinted  praise  of 
Cervantes  and  Lope  de  Vega.  Even  in  obscure  corners  of 

i Special  mention  should  here  be  made  of  that  admirable  religious  epic, 
the  Cristiada  of  the  Dominican,  Fray  Diego  de  Ojeda.  Of  parts  of  this  mas- 
terpiece no  less  an  authority  than  the  distinguished  Spanish  author,  Quintana, 
writes  that  they  are  equal  to  the  most  sublime  passages  of  Homer,  Dante  or 
Milton. 


254 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  KINGS 


the  Andes  it  had  its  votaries.  The  most  remarkable  in- 
stance of  this  is  in  the  person  of  a woman,  supposed  to 
have  been  Dona  Maria  de  Alvarado,  a descendant  of  the 
conquistador,  Captain  Gomez  de  Alvarado.  This 

“Fenix  rara  a dulces  muses  inclinada” 

is  known  by  her  poetical  name  Amarilis,  which  she  used 
in  her  celebrated  metrical  correspondence  with  Lope  de 
Vega,  who  appears  under  the  name  of  Belardo.  Judging 
by  the  specimens  of  her  work  that  have  come  down  to  us, 
this  remarkable  woman  deserves  to  rank  among  the  first 
poets  of  the  viceroyal  regime,  and  the  productions  of  her 
muse  are  quite  equal  to  those  that  have  ever  come  from 
the  pen  of  any  of  her  sex  in  Latin  America. 

It  is  not  my  purpose,  however,  to  tell  what  Lima — much 
less  what  Peru — has  achieved  in  literature  and  science; 
what  her  schools  and  colleges  have  done  for  the  intellectual 
advancement  of  her  sons  and  daughters.  That  of  itself 
would  require  a large  volume.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  it  was 
for  a long  time  regarded  as  the  Athens  of  South  America, 
and  was  actually  known  by  this  name  during  the  greater 
part  of  the  viceroyalty.  But,  after  Peru  separated  from 
Spain  and  wars  and  civil  dissensions  multiplied,  the  City 
of  the  Kings  lost  her  proud  supremacy  in  letters  and  sci- 
ence, and  the  title,  she  had  so  long  borne  with  such  distinc- 
tion, was  claimed  by  the  capital  of  Colombia.  Since  the 
War  of  Independence,  the  Athens  of  South  America  has 
been  in  Bogota,  but  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  it  will 
soon  be  once  more  on  the  banks  of  the  Rimac. 

All  indications  point  in  this  direction,  notwithstanding 
the  literary  and  scientific  work  that  is  being  done  in  Bogota, 
Buenos  Aires  and  Santiago  de  Chile.  For  not  since  Peru 
became  a republic  has  Lima  manifested  such  intellectual 
activity  as  she  has  exhibited  during  the  past  few  years. 
She  has  made  notable  advances  in  every  branch  of  research, 
and  her  learned  societies,  especially  the  Athenceum,  the 


255 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Historical  Institute  and  the  Geographical  Society  are  doing 
work  that  is  recognized  the  world  over  as  of  permanent 
value.  This  is  evinced,  to  give  but  two  illustrations,  by 
the  Boletin  del  la  Sociedad  Geografica  de  Lima  and  La 
Revista  Historica,  the  organ  of  the  Instituto  Historico  del 
Peru. 

Aside  from  her  numerous  educational  institutions  and 
learned  societies  the  best  evidence  of  the  new  intellectual 
life  that  pervades  the  capital  of  Peru  is  seen  in  her  splendid 
National  Museum  and  in  the  National  Public  Library. 

Although  the  Museum  was  completed  but  a few  years 
ago,  it  already  contains  in  its  spacious  halls  many  collec- 
tions of  supreme  interest  to  the  student.  Of  special  value 
are  the  treasures  in  the  departments  of  history  and  archae- 
ology. My  attention  was  particularly  claimed  by  the  ob- 
jects taken  from  the  prehistoric  cemeteries  of  Ancon  and 
Pachacamac,1  both  places  but  a short  distance  from  Lima. 
Owing  to  the  absence  of  rain  in  these  localities  the  objects 
buried  with  the  dead,  even  the  most  delicate  textile  fabrics, 
are  in  a wonderful  state  of  preservation.  Indeed,  some  of 
the  articles  of  clothing  and  adornment  are  as  well  pre- 
served as  any  similar  fabrics  found  in  the  tombs  of  Egypt. 
Their  colors,  too,  are  as  bright  as  when  first  applied,  al- 
though the  objects  in  question  all  belong  to  pre-Columbian 
times.2 

Frequently,  as  I passed  in  review  these  curious  relics 
of  a prehistoric  past,  my  mind  reverted  to  the  great 
museum  of  Bulak  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile.  Here,  too, 

1 The  reader  who  may  be  interested  in  the  remains  that  have  been  found 
in  Pachacamac  and  Ancon,  is  referred  to  Max  Uhle’s  work,  Pachacamac, 
Philadelphia,  1903,  and  to  the  two  sumptuous  volumes  by  Reiss  and  Stlibel, 
entitled  Das  Totenfeld  von  Ancon,  Berlin,  1880,  1887. 

2 Wiener  fancies  that  he  has  discovered  in  the  various  designs  which  enrich 
the  textures  found  in  the  Huacas — tombs — of  Peru  evidence  of  a written  lan- 
guage. In  his  work,  P6rou  et  Bolivie,  p.  760,  he  says  explicitly,  Nous  fixons 
notre  pens6e  sur  le  papier,  le  Peruvian  Vinscrivait  sur  le  tissu.  I must  confess 
that  I have  never  been  able  to  detect  in  the  bizarre  figures  of  old  Peruvian 
tissues  any  more  evidence  of  a written  language  than  may  be  found  in  a 
piece  of  calico  or  organdy. 


256 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  KINGS 


are  collected  the  remains  and  the  cerements  of  a race  who, 
like  the  Incas  and  their  predecessors,  have  left  monuments 
as  imperishable  as  they  are  mysterious.  Indeed,  the  monu- 
ments, especially  some  of  the  specimens  of  architecture, 
of  the  ancient  Peruvians,  forcibly  remind  one  of  certain 
structures  in  the  one-time  land  of  the  Pharaohs.  Not  with- 
out reason,  then,  has  Peru  been  called  the  Egypt  of  the 
New  World.  And  as  I wandered  through  this  noble  insti- 
tution, noting  the  scientific  value  of  the  rare  collections 
gathered  within  its  halls,  I said  to  myself — “Here  is  the 
beginning  of  an  American  Bulak,  a museum  that  will  do 
for  the  history  of  Incaic  and  pre-Incaic  Peru  what  the 
museum  in  Cairo  has  accomplished  for  the  history  of  the 
Egypt  of  the  sphinx  and  pyramid  builders. 

Peru  is  singularly  rich  in  the  remains  of  its  aboriginal 
inhabitants.  They  are  found  in  all  parts  of  the  country, 
from  its  northern  frontier  to  Lake  Titicaca,  and  from  the 
Pacific  to  the  Montana.  Some  of  these  have  already  found 
a place  in  the  National  Museum,  but  there  are  still  myriads 
of  others  scattered  throughout  the  republic  awaiting  the 
advent  of  the  intelligent  collector  and  their  final  transfer 
to  the  capital  of  the  nation.  Much  has  already  been  taken 
from  the  ruins  and  cemeteries  of  Chimu,  Ancon,  Cuzco  and 
Pachacamac,  but  much  more  is  awaiting  the  pick  and  the 
spade  of  the  archaeologist.  The  investigations  of  Reiss 
and  Stiibel  in  Ancon,  of  Max  Uhle  in  Pachacamac,  and  of 
Bandelier  in  the  islands  of  Coati  and  Titicaca,  show  what 
rare  treasures  are  in  reserve  for  the  explorer  in  this  still 
little-known  land,  and  the  success  which  has  attended  their 
labors  should  stimulate  others  to  walk  in  their  footsteps. 
Peruvian  archaeology  is  still  in  its  infancy,  and  for  that 
very  reason  there  is  no  more  promising  field  in  the  world 
than  Peru  for  those  who  are  interested  in  studying  the 
remains  of  tribes  long  since  extinct,  or  of  people  who  have 
played  such  an  important  role  in  South  America  as  the 
Children  of  the  Sun. 

The  government  of  Peru  realizes  the  importance  of  all 

257 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


work  that  will  in  any  way  contribute  towards  filling  up 
the  many  lacunae  which  still  exist  in  the  history  of  the 
country.  For  this  reason  it  is  specially  favorable  towards 
research  of  all  kinds  by  whomsoever  undertaken,  and  for 
this  reason  also  it  is  eager  to  make  the  collections  in  the 
National  Museum  as  complete  as  possible.  If  the  present 
plans  are  carried  out,  there  is  no  doubt  that  this  institution 
will  eventually  be  the  most  important  of  its  kind  in  the 
New  World — a veritable  Bulak  for  the  American  Egypt — 
and  that  it  will  be  of  the  utmost  assistance  in  enabling 
future  scholars  to  solve  certain  problems  in  ethnology  and 
anthropology  that  have  hitherto  baffled  all  the  efforts  of 
the  keenest  investigators. 

Quite  as  important  for  history  as  the  museum  for  archae- 
ology is  the  well-equipped  Public  Library  which,  if  not  the 
largest,  is  certainly  the  most  valuable  in  South  America. 
Unfortunately  it  does  not  now  possess  all  the  inestimable 
treasures  it  contained  three  decades  ago.  Then  it  counted 
fifty  thousand  printed  volumes  and  eight  thousand  manu- 
scripts. Among  the  printed  volumes  was  every  work  that 
had  been  issued  from  the  press  of  Peru  since  1584.  Many 
of  these  were  as  rare  as  they  were  valuable,  while  most 
of  the  manuscripts  were  absolutely  unique.  There  were 
also  the  productions  of  nearly  all  the  chroniclers  of  Spanish 
America,  some  of  which  it  would  have  been  difficult,  if  not 
impossible,  to  duplicate. 

Then  Peru  witnessed  that  terrible  invasion  from  the 
south  euphemistically  called  the  Wa;r  of  the  Pacific — a 
war  of  spoliation  and  conquest  without  parallel  in  the  New 
World — a war  unprovoked  by  Peru,  but  signalized  on  the 
part  of  the  invader  by  acts  of  barbaric  atrocity  that  were 
a disgrace  to  a nation  calling  itself  civilized. 

In  January,  1881,  the  Chilean  troops  entered  Lima. 
“No  one,”  wrote  Don  Ricardo  Palma,  in  his  protest  against 
the  wanton  and  barbarous  acts  of  destruction  of  the  in- 
vading army,  “could  have  supposed,  without  an  insult  to 
the  government  of  Chile,  a government  that  pretends  to 

258 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  KINGS 

j 

civilization  and  culture,  that  this  government  would  seize 
as  plunder  of  war  the  appliances  of  the  university,  the 
museum  of  the  school  of  medicine,  the  instruments  of  the 
school  of  mines,  the  national  archives,  and  objects  belong- 
ing to  other  institutions  of  a purely  scientific,  literary  or 
artistic  character.” 

Yet,  during  their  occupation  of  Lima,  the  Chileans  did 
not  hesitate  “to  invest  war  with  a barbarous  character 
foreign  to  the  lights  of  the  age,  to  the  usages  of  honorable 
belligerents,  and  to  the  universally  recognized  principles 
of  right.”  The  library  and  the  university  of  San  Marcos 
were  converted  by  the  soulless  Vandals  into  barracks. 
The  books,  writes  Markham,  “were  either  sold  as  waste 
paper,  thrown  into  the  street,  or  stolen.  The  pictures  and 
everything  of  value  in  the  exhibition  building,  the  labora- 
tory and  appurtenances  of  the  school  of  medicine,  all  the 
models  and  appliances  for  teaching  in  the  schools  of  art, 
sciences  and  trade,  and  public  monuments,  were  destroyed, 
or  carried  off.  The  benches  of  the  lecture  rooms  were  cut 
up  to  make  packing  cases  for  the  plunder.”  1 

In  this  crime  against  civilization,  in  this  outrage  per- 
petrated on  a sister  republic,  Omar  and  Alaric  were  out- 
done in  deeds  of  desolation  and  savagery.  No  wonder  the 
United  States  minister  felt  called  upon  to  report  them  as 
“violations  of  the  rules  of  civilized  warfare,  which  call 
for  an  earnest  protest  on  behalf  of  all  civilized  nations.” 
Thanks,  however,  to  a number  of  public-spirited  Peru- 
vians, who  occupied  themselves  during  the  Vandalic  occu- 
pation of  their  fair  capital  in  collecting,  as  far  as  possible, 
the  scattered  treasures  of  their  ravaged  library,  enough 
of  the  books  and  manuscripts — about  eight  thousand  all 
told — were  recovered  to  form  the  nucleus  of  a new  library, 
which  was  begun  as  soon  as  the  enemy  withdrew  from  the 
city.  And,  realizing  the  appalling  loss  that  letters  and  sci- 
ence had  sustained  in  Lima,  through  the  ruthless  soldiery 
of  Chile,  the  United  States  and  Spain,  Argentina  and 

U Hi  story  of  Peru,  pp.  417,  432,  471,  Chicago,  1892. 

259 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Ecuador  promptly  came  forward  with  generous  donations 
of  books  to  replace  those  that  had  been  destroyed  or  stolen. 
Thanks  to  these  and  other  gifts  from  various  sources, 
public  and  private,  the  library  of  Lima  has  again  on  its 
shelves  almost  as  many  volumes  as  it  had  before  the  arrival 
of  the  destructive  invader.  It  and  the  museum  constitute 
two  of  the  richest  storehouses  of  books  and  specimens  in 
the  whole  of  South  America,  the  two  depositaries  of  lit- 
erary and  scientific  appliances  whither  the  historian  and 
archaeologist  will  first  turn  for  material  in  their  respective 
lines  of  research. 

Nothing,  indeed,  impressed  me  more  while  looking  over 
the  rare  books  and  manuscripts  of  Lima  than  the  splendid 
opportunity  here  offered  the  man  of  letters  and  the  his- 
torian, of  working  among  materials  that  are  practically 
unknown  and  yet  of  the  greatest  value.  Among  the  manu- 
scripts are  gems  of  prose  and  verse  sufficient  for  a large 
anthology,  while  among  the  published  works  are  many  con- 
nected with  the  early  history  of  Peru,  that  are  of  such 
exceeding  rarity  as  to  be  found  in  but  few  libraries  and 
to  be  quite  beyond  the  purse  of  anyone  but  a millionaire 
booklover. 

It  was  while  reveling  among  these  treasures  that  I saw 
how  a dream,  which  I had  long  fondly  cherished,  and  which 
I am  sure  many  students  of  Peruvian  history  have  like- 
wise equally  cherished,  could  eventually  be  realized.  And 
if  my  Limanian  friends  will  permit  an  ardent  admirer  of 
their  chivalrous  and  cultured  city  to  express  his  whole 
thought,  I will  say  that  my  dream  had  reference  to  the 
publication  of  the  rare  historical  works  in  their  library 
in  such  form  as  to  render  them  available  for  the  increasing 
multitude  of  students  throughout  the  world  who  desire 
positive  knowledge  at  first  hand  regarding  the  history  and 
antiquities  of  the  great  empire  of  the  Incas. 

Who  are  more  competent  than  the  directors  of  the  library 
and  museum,  and  the  members  of  the  historical  and  geo- 
graphical societies  of  Lima  to  annotate  and  edit  these 

260 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  KINGS 


works?  Who  are  so  well  qualified  to  give  critical  esti- 
mates of  the  true  values  of  the  various  early  chronicles? 
Who  are  so  familiar  with  the  manners  and  customs  of  the 
Quicliua  and  Ayamara  Indians,  and  so  familiar  with  their 
language, — a knowledge  of  which  is  so  essential  in  dealing 
with  many  details  of  history,  geography  and  ethnology? 
And  for  whom  should  such  an  undertaking  be  more  a labor 
of  love  than  for  those  who  have  most  faithfully  preserved 
the  traditions  of  the  Children  of  the  Sun,  and  in  whose 
veins  courses  the  blood  of  the  most  distinguished  of  the 
conquistadores  as  well  as  of  the  most  illustrious  of  Spanish 
grandees  ? 

What  Americanists  have  long  desired,  and  what  they 
now  desire  more  than  ever,  is  a critical,  well-annotated 
Coleccion  de  los  Historiadores  del  Peru,  something  in  the 
style  of  the  works  on  Peru  edited  by  Clements  R.  Mark- 
ham for  the  Hakluyt  Society.  Similar  collections  have 
been  published  by  some  of  the  other  South  American  repub- 
lics, and  several  attempts  have  been  made,  by  the  scholars 
of  Spain  and  Peru,  to  inaugurate  the  work  in  question. 
Las  Memorias  de  los  Vireyes,  the  Documentos  Historicos 
of  Sr.  Ordriozola,  as  well  as  the  works  edited  by  M.  Gon- 
zalez de  la  Rosa,  M.  Jimenez  de  la  Espada  and  Ricardo 
Palma  have  made  a beginning.  It  remains  for  the  scholars 
of  Peru  to  complete  the  work  begun  when  times  and  con- 
ditions were  not  as  auspicious  as  they  are  at  present. 

In  addition  to  a complete  collection  of  the  early  chron- 
iclers and  historians  there  should,  me  judice,  be  new  edi- 
tions of  the  works  of  Arriaga,  Calancha  and  Melendez, 
which  throw  such  a flood  of  light  on  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms of  the  Indians,  their  rites  and  superstitions.  Each 
of  these  works,  as  well  as  all  the  others  in  the  collection, 
should,  in  order  to  be  of  the  greatest  service  to  the  stu- 
dent, be  enriched  with  copious  notes  and  an  elaborate 
index,  which,  as  Holmes  truly  observes,  is  what  “every 
book  worth  printing  is  entitled  to.”  I emphasize  the  im- 
portance of  these  things  because  of  their  absence  from 

261 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


many  otherwise  valuable  books  published  on  Spanish  Amer- 
ica. I have,  for  instance,  in  my  library  the  complete  works 
of  the  recent  editions  of  Peter  Martyr,  Las  Casas  and 
Oviedo  y Valdez,  not  to  mention  other  similar  productions 
on  American  history,  but  not  one  of  them  has  either  index 
or  annotations  of  any  kind.  The  consequence  is  that  the 
reader,  unless  thoroughly  familiar  with  their  contents,  is 
obliged  to  lose  much  valuable  time  whenever  he  consults 
them — a loss  that  would  be  obviated  if  the  books  were 
properly  indexed  and  annotated. 

I refer  especially  to  the  necessity  of  illustrative  notes, 
because  of  the  many  changes  in  the  names  of  places  since 
the  time  of  the  conquest,  and  of  the  different  ways  of 
writing  the  same  names,  as  well  as  of  the  various  and  con- 
tradictory statements  sometimes  observed  of  different 
authors  regarding  localities  and  events.  Giving  the  reader 
the  advantage  of  the  researches  of  such  investigators  as 
Raimondi,  Mendiburu  and  Paz  Soldan,  the  study  of  Peru- 
vian history  would  be  invested  with  all  the  interest  and 
charm  of  a romance,  and  the  story  of  the  land  of  the  Incas, 
which  has  always  had  an  interest  possessed  by  that  of  no 
other  country  in  South  America,  would  then  have  a fasci- 
nation that  would  be  irresistible. 

I have  dwelt  somewhat  at  length  on  the  literary  and 
scientific  features  of  Lima  because  they  appealed  to  me 
more  than  any  other.  I have  also  wished  to  voice  the  senti- 
ments of  many  others  who,  I know,  entertain  the  same 
views  as  I do  regarding  the  matter  in  question,  and  at  the 
same  time  speak  a word  in  behalf  of  the  future  Irvings 
and  Prescotts  who,  in  the  days  to  come,  shall  transmute 
the  dry  records  of  the  early  chroniclers  into  imperishable 
masterpieces  of  literature.  I would  not,  however,  have 
the  reader  infer  that  I was  indifferent  to  the  many  other 
attractions  of  this  fair  capital,  or  that  I did  not  appreciate 
them  at  their  full  value.  Nothing  is  farther  from  my  pur- 
pose. 

Lima  is  to-day,  as  truly  as  it  was  in  the  time  of  the  vice- 

262 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  KINGS 


roys,  La  Perla  del  Pacifico.  The  beauty,  the  grace  and  the 
talent  of  her  daughters  still  retain  the  same  supremacy 
as  they  did  when  they  inspired  the  songs  of  the  poet  who 
frequented  the  tertulias  and  academias  of  the  viceregal 
court,  and  it  is  not  rare  to  meet  a fair  Limanian  of  whom 
one  can  truthfully  say,  in  the  words  of  Calderon,  that  “she 
is  crowned  with  beauty  and  laureled  with  knowledge”: 

“Se  corono  de  hermosura, 

Se  laureo  de  entendimiento.  ” 

The  culture,  generosity  and  nobility  of  her  sons  is  in  keep- 
ing with  the  best  traditions  of  the  mother  country  and 
exhibit  that  peculiar  Spanish  cachet  which  is  the  distinctive 
mark  of  the  best  and  truest  Americanism  in  the  lands  of 
Pizarro,  Quesada  and  Cortes.1 

The  visitor  will  not  now  find  that  display  and  luxury 
which  in  other  days  characterized  the  City  of  the  Kings. 
The  streets  are  no  longer  paved  with  silver  ingots  nor 
adorned  with  silver  arches,  as  when  the  Count  de  Lemos 
and  the  Duke  de  Palata  entered  the  capital  as  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  sovereigns  of  Spain.  But,  notwithstand- 
ing the  absence  of  these  things,  there  is  everywhere,  evi- 
dence of  wealth  and  comfort.  And  were  one  not  informed 
of  the  fact,  one  would  find  it  difficult  to  believe  the  city 
had  passed  through  the  horrors  of  the  disastrous  Chilean 

1 Jorge  Juan  and  Antonio  de  Ulloa,  op.  eit.,  Tom.  II,  Lib.  I,  Cap.  V,  found, 
as  does  the  traveler  to-day,  the  personal  charms  of  the  women  of  Lima 
“heightened  by  those  of  the  mind,  clear  and  comprehensive  intellect,  an  easi- 
ness of  behaviour,  so  well  tempered,  that  while  it  invites  love,  it  commands 
respect.  The  charms  of  their  conversation  are  beyond  expression,  their  ideas 
just,  their  expressions  pure,  their  manners  inimitably  graceful.  These  are 
the  allurements  by  which  great  numbers  of  Europeans,  forgetting  the  fair 
prospects  they  have  at  home,  are  induced  to  marry  and  settle  here.” 

Another  traveler,  writing  of  the  men  of  Peru,  declares,  and  with  truth, 
that  they  “have  fallen  heirs  to  the  courtly  grace  and  admirable  savoir  faire, 
which  made  the  Knights  of  Santiago  and  Alcantara  famous  among  the  first 
gentlemen  of  Europe  four  centuries  ago,  and  which,  descending  to  their 
children  and  children’s  children,  have  become  characteristic  of  Spanish- 
speaking people  all  over  the  world.” 


263 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


occupation  but  a few  decades  ago.  On  every  side  one  ob- 
serves surprising  indications  of  material  progress  and 
prosperity.  The  population,  which  now  counts  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  souls,  is  rapidly  increasing,  and 
large  and  stately  structures,  worthy  of  any  capital  in  the 
world,  are  being  erected  in  every  part  of  the  city.  Among 
these  are  banks,  mercantile  and  manufacturing  establish- 
ments, which  represent  an  immense  expenditure  for  build- 
ings and  equipment.  Foreign  investors,  having  entire 
confidence  in  the  power  and  stability  of  the  government, 
have  large  interests  here  as  well  as  in  other  parts  of  the 
republic,  and  the  number  of  capitalists  in  Europe  and  the 
United  States  who  are  seeking  investments  in  the  “golden 
land  of  Peru”  is  constantly  augmenting.  English,  Ger- 
mans, French,  Italians  are  quite  numerous  here,  and  all  of 
them  do  an  extensive  business.  Our  own  country  is  splen- 
didly represented  by  W.  R.  Grace  and  Company,  and  by  a 
number  of  successful  mining  syndicates;  but  the  United 
States  is  far  from  occupying  her  proper  place  here  in  the 
world  of  commerce  and  industrial  enterprise.  There  are 
countless  openings  here  for  wide-awake  business  men,  and 
fame  and  fortune  await  those  who  know  how  to  take  advan- 
tage of  the  rare  opportunities  that  are  now  offered  in  the 
marts  of  commerce,  in  the  mines  of  the  sierra  and  in  the 
forest-clad  regions  of  the  upper  Amazon  basin. 

When  one  notes  the  energy  and  enterprise  of  its  citizens, 
and  observes  the  remarkable  progress  they  are  making 
along  every  line  of  human  endeavor,  one  can  easily  predict, 
without  the  slightest  fear  of  erring,  that  the  erstwhile  City 
of  the  Kings  will  ere  long  have  recovered  all  her  former 
prestige  as  an  emporium  of  commerce,  and  that  she  will 
again  deserve,  as  in  days  gone  by,  the  proud  title  of  Reina 
del  Pacifico — Queen  of  the  Pacific. 


264 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  REALM  OF  THE  GREAT  CHIMU 

The  time  had  at  last  arrived  for  starting  on  my  long 
journey  across  the  Andes  and  down  the  Amazon.  And, 
although  I had  all  along  felt  that  I should  prefer  to  go  by 
way  of  Cajamarca  and  Moyabamba,  my  itinerary  from 
Lima  to  Para  had  not  yet  been  definitely  determined. 
Many  of  my  Peruvian  friends,  among  them  prominent 
government  officials,  strongly  recommended  the  recently 
opened  Pichis  and  Pachitea  route.  This  would  be  much 
shorter  and  easier  than  any  other,  and  could,  compared 
with  the  other  routes,  be  traversed  with  the  minimum  of 
fatigue  and  discomfort.  The  only  arduous  part  of  it  would 
be  a few  days’  travel  on  horseback  between  Oroya,  the 
terminus  of  the  railroad,  and  Puerto  Bermudes,  the  head 
of  navigation  on  the  Pichis  river.  Arrived  at  this  point, 
one  could  go  by  steamer  to  Iquitos  on  the  Amazon, 
where  one  would  find  vessels  going  directly  to  Europe  and 
the  United  States.  This  has  for  some  years  been  the 
popular  route,  and  the  one  usually  chosen  by  the  employes 
of  the  government  who  are  engaged  in  the  Department 
of  Loreto,  which  comprises  the  northeastern  part  of  the 
republic. 

President  Pardo,  who  was  kind  enough  to  take  an  interest 
in  my  projected  journey  across  the  continent,  likewise 
favored  the  Pichis  route.  And  then  with  a kindness  I can 
never  forget  he  said,  “Two  new  launches,  built  specially 
for  service  on  the  Pichis  and  Ucayali  rivers,  have  recently 
arrived  in  Iquitos  and  will,  in  a few  days,  make  their 
maiden  trips  to  Puerto  Bermudes.  I should  be  delighted 
to  put  one  of  these  at  your  disposition  and  do  anything 

265 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


else  in  my  power  that  will  enable  you  to  make  the  journey 
to  the  Amazon  with  the  maximum  of  pleasure  and  profit. 
The  way  by  Cajamarca  is  long  and  difficult,  and  implies 
a journey  of  nearly  a month  on  horseback,  in  addition  to 
a week’s  tramp  through  the  almost  trackless  montana, 
where  there  is  not  a single  habitation  of  any  kind.” 

As  in  La  Paz,  when  a similar  courteous  offer  was  made 
me  by  the  president  of  Bolivia,  I begged  for  time  to  con- 
sider the  matter.  I had  so  set  my  heart  on  seeing  Caja- 
marca, so  famous  in  the  annals  of  the  conquest,  that  I did 
not  wish  to  think  of  a route  that  would  preclude  the  fruition 
of  this  desire.  The  fact  that  the  journey  by  way  of  Caja- 
marca would  be  much  longer  and  more  arduous,  far  from 
deterring  me  from  undertaking  it,  was  rather  an  additional 
incentive  to  my  making  it.  I had  come  to  study  the  people 
of  the  country  rather  than  dark  and  uninhabited  forests, 
like  those  bordering  the  banks  of  the  Ucayali,  and  I was, 
therefore,  disinclined  to  allow  the  matter  of  ease  and  com- 
fort to  be  the  deciding  factors  regarding  my  itinerary. 
Besides  this,  there  was  the  old  sentimental  objection 
against  the  Pichis  route.  It  was  off  the  line  of  travel  of 
the  conquistadores,  and  was  otherwise  entirely  devoid  of 
historic  and  romantic  interest. 

The  day  after  my  interview,  I attended  a banquet  given 
at  the  National  Club  by  the  president  of  the  Peruvian 
Corporation.  Among  those  present  were  two  retired  gov- 
ernment officials,  who  had  rendered  distinguished  service 
to  the  republic  in  the  cities  of  Trujillo  and  Chacahpoyas. 
Our  host,  who  had,  on  various  occasions  during  my  travels 
in  Peru,  extended  me  special  courtesies,  which  I shall 
always  gratefully  remember,  and  who  was  aware  of  my 
intention  to  start  for  the  Amazon  in  a few  days,  asked 
these  gentlemen  what  they  thought  of  the  Cajamarca  route 
as  compared  with  the  one  by  way  of  Puerto  Bermudes. 

“If,”  said  the  former  prefect  of  Chachapoyas,  “one 
wishes  to  get  off  the  beaten  track,  and  see  the  Peru  of 
colonial  times,  where  the  manners  and  customs  of  the 

266 


THE  REALM  OF  THE  GREAT  CHIMU 


people  are  still  as  they  were  in  the  time  of  the  viceroys, 
one  should  by  all  means  visit  the  country  between  Caja- 
marca  and  Moyobamba.  To  me  it  is  the  most  interesting 
part  of  Peru.  The  people  are  hospitable,  and  the  scenery 
in  the  sierra  is  gTand  beyond  description.  To  one  who  is 
not  afraid  to  rough  it  a little,  the  route  to  Iquitos,  by  way 
of  Cajamarca  and  the  Huallaga,  is  incomparably  more 
interesting  than  the  one  by  way  of  the  rivers  Pichis  and 
Yucayali.” 

The  ex-prefect  of  Trujillo  cordially  endorsed  this  opin- 
ion. “The  Cajamarca  route,”  he  said,  “aside  from  being 
the  historic  route  across  Peru  to  the  Amazon,  offers  many 
other  attractive  features  not  mentioned  by  my  Chachapoyas 
friend.  Not  the  least  of  these  are  the  fertile  valley  of 
Chicama  and  the  little-known  ruins  of  Cuelap,  east  of  the 
Maranon.  But  the  place  most  deserving  of  a visit  is  the 
site  of  the  ancient  capital  of  The  Great  Chimu.  The  ruins 
found  here  are  unique,  and  in  many  respects  as  imposing 
as  any  in  the  republic.  No  one  interested  in  prehistoric 
archaeology  should  leave  Peru  without  paying  a visit  to 
this  spot.” 

The  matter  was  then  discussed  by  other  members  of  the 
party  with  the  result  that  I then  definitely  announced  that 
I should  immediately  prepare  to  start  for  Trujillo,  whence 
I should  journey  to  the  Amazon  in  the  footsteps  of  Pedro 
de  Orsua  and  Lope  de  Aguirre  in  their  memorable  quest 
of  Omagua  and  Dorado. 

“Who  is  going  with  you?”  inquired  Sr.  V , with 

undisguised  concern.  I replied  that  I purposed  traveling 
alone,  unless  I should  fall  in  with  someone  on  the  way. 
“That  will  never  do,”  he  said.  “The  journey  is  too  long 
and  trying  to  make  alone.  The  risk,  in  case  of  sickness 
or  accident,  in  traveling  unaccompanied  through  such  a 
long  stretch  of  sparsely  settled  country,  as  that  between 
the  Pacific  and  the  Amazon,  is  too  great  to  justify  your 
making  the  trip  alone.  We  must  find  someone  to  go  with 
you.  ’ ’ 


267 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


The  following  day,  as  I was  walking  along  the  Calle  de 

Mercaderes,  I met  Sr.  V , whose  face  was  wreathed  in 

smiles.  “You  are,”  he  exclaimed,  “the  very  one  I am 
looking  for.  I have  just  been  to  see  His  Excellency,  the 
President,  regarding  your  journey  to  the  Amazon,  and  he 
agrees  with  me  that  you  should  not  go  alone.  He  has, 
accordingly,  given  instructions  that  you  be  furnished  with 
a military  escort  from  Trujillo  to  Iquitos.  This  is  not 
because  of  any  danger  to  be  apprehended  from  the  Indians, 
or  from  others  on  the  way,  but  that  you  may  be  able  to 
enjoy  your  trip  free  from  all  unnecessary  cares  and  labor. 
Your  escort  will  look  after  your  saddle  and  pack  animals, 
take  care  of  your  tent,  where  you  may  use  it,  do  your  cook- 
ing, where  desired,  and  make  every  other  possible  pro- 
vision for  your  comfort  during  your  journey.  You  will 
also  have  letters  from  His  Excellency  to  all  the  prefects  1 
en  route,  who  will  be  requested  to  give  you  special  atten- 
tion while  traveling  in  their  respective  departments.” 

The  reader  can  imagine  my  surprise  on  learning  this 
arrangement  so  kindly  made  in  my  behalf.  Since  my 
arrival  in  Peru  I had  been  the  recipient  of  favors  of  all 
kinds  whithersoever  I went,  but  this  last  one,  so  spon- 
taneous and  so  unexpected,  coming  from  the  chief  execu- 
tive of  the  nation,  and  those  who  were  nearest  to  him, 
was  the  culmination  of  all  the  delicate  attentions  and  con- 
siderate acts  that  had  so  signalized  my  journeyings  in 
the  land  of  the  Incas. 

I shall  never  forget  my  last  day  in  Lima.  I had  taken 
leave  of  the  many  kind  friends  who  had  made  my  sojourn 
in  their  fair  city  so  delightful,  and  who  had  contributed 

i “Peru  is  divided  politically  into  twenty-two  large  territorial  circum- 
scriptions which,  under  the  name  of  Departments  and  Littoral  Provinces, 
are  subject  to  the  authority  of  a prefect  who  receives  his  instructions 
directly  from  the  secretary  of  the  interior.  These  circumscriptions  are  sub- 
divided into  one  hundred  and  one  provinces,  which  are  in  charge  of  sub- 
prefects; finally  the  provinces  are  subdivided  into  eight  hundred  and  one 
districts,  which  are  directly  under  the  authority  of  governors.”  Peru  in  1906, 
p.  93,  by  Alexander  Garland,  Lima,  1907. 

268 


THE  REALM  OF  THE  GREAT  CHIMU 

so  much  towards  rendering  the  journey  I was  entering 
upon  both  pleasant  and  profitable.  Eeturning  to  my  hotel 
to  give  instructions  about  my  baggage,  I found  to  my 
amazement  that  it  had  been  greatly  increased  during  my 
short  absence.  There  was  a fine  Panama  hat  and  a case 
of  exquisite  Bordeaux  from  a prominent  member  of  the 
Chamber  of  Deputies.  There  was  a beautiful  silver  goblet 
and  a small  medicine  case  from  a well-known  miner.  There 
were  water-proof  sleeping-bags,  blankets,  umbrellas,  pho- 
tographic appliances,  books  and  other  similar  articles, 
selected  by  thoughtful  friends  with  a view  to  the  pleasure 
and  comfort  they  would  afford  the  departing  traveler  in 
his  long  journey  across  the  continent.  Never  was  I more 
deeply  touched  than  when  I saw  before  me  these  manifes- 
tations of  good  will.  And  yet  should  I say  that  I was 
surprised?  Had  not  all  my  previous  experience  in  this 
hospitable  land  been  but  a series  of  similar  acts  of  kindly 
foresight  and  unfailing  generosity? 

The  day  after  departing  from  Lima,  which  I confess  I 
left  with  a heavy  heart,  I found  myself  at  Salaverry,  the 
port  of  Trujillo.  As  I left  the  steamer  I overheard  the 
captain  remarking  to  one  of  the  passengers,  “That  frail 
man  will  never  reach  Para.  Only  a hardy  cholo  should 
undertake  such  a journey.  I will  wager  ten  to  one  that 
he  will  die  on  the  way.”  This  aside  was  not  intended  for 
my  ear,  but  it  was  no  more  calculated  to  discourage  than 
the  last  words  of  a fellow  passenger,  a friend  of  mine,  who 
was  greatly  opposed  to  my  journey  and  who  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  pronounce  it  extremely  hazardous,  if  not  foolhardy. 
Seeing  that  his  premonitions  were  of  no  avail,  he  bade 
me  good-by,  repeating,  half  in  earnest  and  half  in  jest, 
Dante’s  well-known  words: 

“Lasciate  ogni  speranza,  voi  qu’  entrate.”1 

The  first  one  to  greet  me  on  my  arrival  at  Salaverry 
was  Sr.  V , the  prefect  of  Trujillo,  a brother  of  his 

i “All  hope  abandon,  ye  who  enter  here.” 

269 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


predecessor  in  office,  and  of  the  one  who  had  so  interested 
himself  in  securing  for  me  a military  escort. 

“I  received  a telegram  yesterday  from  my  brother,  an- 
nouncing your  coming,”  said  the  prefect  after  the  usual 
greetings  were  exchanged,  “and  I have  come  to  claim  you 
as  my  guest  during  your  sojourn  in  our  city.  You  have 
come  just  in  time  for  the  great  funciones  that  are  to  take 
place  here  on  the  occasion  of  the  first  visit  of  our  new 
fleet.  It  is  due  to-morrow,  and  for  the  next  few  days  there 
will  be  a series  of  entertainments  of  all  kinds  at  which 
you  are  cordially  invited  to  be  present.” 

Trujillo  is  one  of  the  many  cities  founded  by  Francisco 
Pizarro,  and  is  named  after  the  birthplace  of  the  conqueror.1 
For  a long  time  it  was  known  as  one  of  the  most  aristo- 
cratic cities  in  Peru  and  even  to-day  it  counts  many  fam- 
ilies that  claim  descent  from  the  conquistadores  or  from 
distinguished  Spanish  grandees.  But  most  of  its  former 
glory  has  departed  and  its  population  is  reduced  to  about 
eight  thousand  souls.  Yet,  notwithstanding  its  decline,  it 
is  a place  well  worth  visiting,  not  only  on  account  of  the 
attractions  of  the  city  itself,  but  more  particularly  on 
account  of  the  famous  ruins  in  its  immediate  vicinity. 

I have  always  deemed  it  a privilege  that  I was  able  to 
take  part  in  the  festivities  that  were  coincident  with  my 

i In  his  Lima  Fundada,1  which  would  long  ago  have  been  forgotten  were 
it  not  for  its  value  as  history,  the  poet  Peralta  Bamuevo,  whom  one  of  his 
admirers  declares  was  the  sweetest  voice  Parnassus  ever  knew,  refers  to  the 
foundation  of  Trujillo  by  the  conqueror  of  Peru  as  follows: 

“Como  padron  de  su  famosa  cuna 
De  la  ilustre  Trujillo  por  memoria, 

Ciudad,  & quien  apenas  habr&  alguna, 

Que  puede  competir  su  eterna  gloria; 

En  la  planta  que  mas  juzg6  oportuna, 

Otra  erige  del  tiempo,  alta  victoria; 

Pues  solo  el  que  al  modelo  dio  tal  nombre, 

Copia  le  pudo  hacer  de  tal  renombre.” 

i Por  el  Dr.  D.  Pedro  de  Peralta  Barnuevo  Rocha  y Benavides,  Canto  VIII, 
Strophe  38  (Lima,  1732),  en  la  Coleccion  de  Documentos  Literarios  del 
Peru,  Colectados  y Areglados  por  D.  Manuel  de  Odriozola,  Lima,  1863. 

270 


THE  REALM  OF  THE  GREAT  CHIMU 


visit  to  Trujillo.  I was  thus  able  to  observe  at  its  best 
the  ardent  and  noble  character  of  the  Peruvian  when  his 
emotions  are  stirred  by  patriotism  and  memories  of  bril- 
liant achievements. 

For  several  days  after  the  arrival  of  the  Grau  and  the 
Bolognesi — the  latest  additions  to  the  Peruvian  fleet — the 
people  of  Trujillo  were  delirious  with  joy  and  excitement. 
All  work  was  suspended  and  nothing  was  thought  of  but 
balls,  speeches,  banquets  and  general  merry-making.  The 
streets  and  houses  were  gay  with  flags  and  bunting  during 
the  day,  and  illumined  by  fireworks  and  multicolored 
Chinese  lanterns  at  night.  There  were  excursions  to  the 
country-places  of  rich  haciendados,  receptions  on  the 
bright,  armored  cruisers  in  the  roadstead,  and  rejoicings 
in  every  town  and  village  of  the  department.  At  the  grand 
ball  given  in  honor  of  the  heroic  Admiral  Carbajal  and 
his  officers,  there  was  a blaze  of  color  and  a display  of 
elegant  toilets  which  revealed  better  than  words  could  tell, 
the  mystery  and  the  potency  of  a Peruvian  woman’s  toca- 
dor.  Handsome  young  cavaliers  in  brilliant  uniforms  and 
charming  young  senoritas,  aglow  with  the  enthusiasm  in- 
spired by  the  occasion,  presented  a picture  that  once  seen 
can  never  be  forgotten. 

Those  who  were  unable  to  attend  the  public  balls  and 
receptions  were  not,  therefore,  excluded  from  the  general 
rejoicing.  Everywhere,  as  one  walked  along  the  streets, 
were  to  be  heard  the  soft  music  of  the  guitar  and  the 
mandolin,  and,  in  scores  of  richly  decorated  salas,  minuets, 
fandangos  and  mariquitas  were  in  full  swing,  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  the  castanet  and  the  vihuela. 

Everywhere  abounded  buoyant  gladness  and  patriotic  ex- 
ultation— feelings  expressed  by  a recital  of  the  glories  of 
the  country’s  past  and  a forecast  of  her  greatness  in  the 
future.  “Trujillo,”  the  visitors  were  reminded,  “was  the 
first  city  in  Peru  that  proclaimed  emancipation  from  Span- 
ish rule,  for  which  reason  the  department,  of  which  she 
is  now  the  capital,  was  called  Libertad — Liberty.”  And 

271 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


time  and  again  Admiral  Carbajal,  the  Farragut  of  the  Pe- 
ruvian navy,  and  the  then  representative  of  the  nation’s 
forces  on  the  sea,  was  assured,  in  words  that  came  straight 
from  the  heart,  that  the  patriotic  people  of  Libertad  would 
ever  be  found  loyal  to  the  best  traditions  of  their  fathers  in 
all  that  concerned  their  country’s  honor  and  aggrandize- 
ment. 

Much,  however,  as  I was  interested  in  all  that  I heard 
and  saw  during  this  triduum  of  rejoicing,  and  greatly  as  I 
was  charmed  by  the  hospitality  and  refinement  of  the  good 
people  of  Trujillo,  I cannot  forget  the  pleasure  I derived 
from  a visit  to  the  noted  ruins  of  the  city’s  environs,  which, 
even  in  their  decay,  testify  to  the  former  existence  here 
of  a rich  and  powerful  race  about  whom  little  is  known 
except  that  their  last  ruler  was  named  Chimu  Canchu — 
The  Great  Chimu;  that  his  dominions  extended  from 
Tumbez  to  Huacho,  a distance  of  nearly  six  hundred  miles ; 
and  that  more  than  a century  before  the  advent  of  the  Span- 
iards, he  was  himself  forced  to  become  a vassal  of  the 
victorious  Inca  Pachacutec,  “the  Reformer  of  the  World.” 

El  Gran  Chimu , as  the  Spaniards  called  the  former 
capital  of  the  Chimu  chiefs,  was  probably  the  largest  and 
most  populous  pre-Columbian  city  in  the  New  World. 
Judging  from  the  ruins  scattered  over  the  valley  of  the 
Rio  Moche,  it  must  have  covered  an  area  about  twelve  miles 
in  length  and  five  miles  in  breadth,  and  been  the  home  of 
fully  a hundred  thousand  inhabitants.  It  is  comparable 
to  Memphis  in  extent,  and  to  the  ruins  of  Nineveh  and 
Babylon  in  the  number  and  magnitude  of  its  temples  and 
palaces.  Notwithstanding  the  long  centuries  that  have 
elapsed  since  the  city  was  abandoned,  many  of  the  ruins 
are  still  in  an  admirable  state  of  preservation,  and  it  is 
possible  to  determine  with  comparative  ease  the  plans  and 
the  probable  uses  of  many  of  the  structures. 

What  most  excites  the  wonder  of  the  visitor  is  the 
beauty  and  delicacy  of  the  arabesques  and  stucco-work 
which  ornament  many  of  the  larger  edifices.  So  artistic 

272 


Pre-Incaic  Ruins  of  Cuelap,  near  Chachapoyas. 


Ruins  of  the  Great  Chimu. 


THE  REALM  OP  THE  GREAT  CHIMU 


are  some  of  them  that  they  remind  one  of  similar  decora- 
tions in  the  Alhambra  and  in  the  Alcazar  of  Seville.  Many 
of  them  were  painted,  and  in  some  instances  the  colors 
are  yet  remarkably  bright. 

That  these  adobe  structures  should  have  endured  for 
so  many  centuries  and  that  the  arabesques  should  persist 
in  all  their  pristine  beauty  and  freshness,  is  easily  under- 
stood when  one  recollects  that  it  rarely  rains  here  and 
that,  when  it  does  rain,  the  precipitation  is  but  slight.  Al- 
though the  Spaniards  called  this  place  El  Gran  Chimu, 
its  original  name,  and  the  one  by  which  it  is  still  usually 
known  in  these  parts,  is  Chan-Chan,  in  the  Chimu  lan- 
guage, “ sun-sun,’’  presumably  so-called  on  account  of 
the  never-failing  intensity  of  solar  radiation. 

But  more  remarkable  far  than  the  decorations  of  the 
buildings  are  the  objects  which  have  been  and  still  are 
found  in  the  huacas,  or  burial  places  in  and  about  Chan- 
Chan.  The  custom  prevailed  among  the  Chimus,  as  among 
many  other  American  tribes,  of  burying  with  their  dead 
not  only  the  garments  and  ornaments  used  by  them 
during  life,  but  also  every  object  of  daily  use.  The 
clothes  in  which  the  bodies  were  wrapped  were  usually 
woven  in  patterns  and  figures  of  various  colors,  besides 
which  many  of  them  were  adorned  with  feathers  or  with 
small  plates  of  silver  and  gold  in  the  form  of  birds  and 
fish. 

Among  the  objects  found  deposited  with  the  dead  are 
mats  and  work-baskets  containing  balls  of  thread,  spin- 
dles, toys  of  various  kinds,  finger-rings,  bracelets,  neck- 
laces, pins  and  earrings.  There  are  also  headdresses 
made  of  the  many  colored  feathers  of  the  macaw,  splendid 
pieces  of  tapestry  and  embroidery  beautifully  figured,  and 
dyed  with  colors  of  exceeding  brightness,  and  richly  em- 
broidered mantles  adorned  with  a tasteful  combination  of 
designs  and  colors  that  are  truly  surprising.  Most  of  these 
objects  were  found  buried  with  women.  Deposited  with 
the  men,  in  addition  to  the  garments  they  wore,  were  vari- 

273 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

ous  kinds  of  weapons,  many  of  them  of  copper,  such  as 
knives,  lance-heads,  axes  and  star-shaped  clnb-heads. 

The  huacas  are  particularly  rich  in  pottery.  Indeed, 
more  specimens  of  ceramic  ware  have  been  taken  from  the 
ruins  of  Chan-Chan  than  from  any  other  spot  in  Peru. 
Thousands  of  specimens  have  been  sent  to  the  museums 
of  Europe  and  the  United  States,  and,  without  counting 
those  in  the  public  museums  of  South  America,  there  are 
many  thousands  in  the  possession  of  private  collectors. 
Even  a few  days  before  my  arrival  in  Trujillo,  a friend 
of  mine  purchased  in  one  lot  more  than  a thousand  speci- 
mens for  a foreign  museum.  How  many  are  still  in  the 
huacas  hereabout,  awaiting  the  future  explorer,  cannot  be 
estimated,  but  the  number  must  be  enormous. 

The  pottery  of  the  Chimus  is  as  remarkable  for  the  va- 
riety of  its  designs  as  for  the  artistic  skill  displayed  in 
its  workmanship.  In  it  one  will  find  imitations  of  every 
bird,  fish,  mammal,  shell  and  fruit,  with  which  the  makers 
were  acquainted.  The  human  figure  also  occurs  quite  fre- 
quently. Some  of  the  heads  and  faces  are  so  well  molded 
that  they  seem  to  be  portraits,  while  others  are  so  gro- 
tesque that  their  execution  would  do  credit  to  the  most 
skillful  caricaturist.  There  are  also  groups  of  figures, 
men,  women  and  children — portraying  war  dances,  har- 
vest scenes,  games  and  domestic  occupations  of  different 
kinds.  These  are  of  special  value,  as  they  enable  the  ar- 
chaeologist to  form  some  conjecture  regarding  the  manners, 
customs  and  religious  beliefs  of  the  ancient  inhabitants  of 
this  part  of  Peru. 

Athough  some  of  the  pottery  is  in  no  wise  superior  to 
that  found  in  many  other  parts  of  the  country,  one  occa- 
sionally comes  across  specimens  of  a very  high  order  of 
excellence.  In  some  instances  the  workmanship  is  so  ar- 
tistic, and  the  scenes  are  so  well  depicted,  that  one  is  re- 
minded of  similar  productions  of  the  potter’s  art  in  an- 
cient Greece  and  Etruria.1 

i After  writing  the  foregoing  paragraph,  I was  glad  to  find  it  corroborated 

274 


THE  REALM  OF  THE  GREAT  CHIMU 


Interesting,  however,  as  are  the  crumbling  edifices  of 
Chan-Chan  and  the  countless  objects  that  have  been  yielded 
by  its  extensive  huacas,  that  which  has  made  the  old  city, 
for  centuries  past,  a center  of  attraction  for  the  people  of 
Trujillo,  and  for  other  parts  of  Peru  as  well,  is  the  wide- 
spread belief  that  it  contains  concealed  treasure  of  fab- 
ulous value.  And  there  is  reason  for  this  belief,  as  the 
following  story,  which  reads  like  a chapter  from  the  Arab- 
ian Nights,  will  show. 

In  the  year  1550,  a cacique  of  Mansiche, — a pueblo 
adjoining  Trujillo, — Don  Antonio  Chayhuac,  who  had  re- 
ceived the  waters  of  baptism  and  was  a legitimate  descend- 
ant of  The  Great  Chimu,  made  known  to  the  Spaniards 
a huaca  near  the  palace  of  Chimu  Canchu,  on  condition 
that  a part  of  the  treasures  that  might  be  found  there 
should  be  used  for  the  benefit  of  the  Indians  under  his 
jurisdiction.  In  consequence  of  this  information,  Garcia 
Gutierrez  de  Toledo  discovered,  in  the  huaca  which  has 
since  borne  his  name,  treasures  that  rivaled  those  of  Monte 
Cristo.  According  to  Feyjoo  de  Sosa,  the  amount  of  gold 
reported  by  the  discoverer  amounted  to  about  three-quar- 
ters of  a million  dollars;  but  he  observes  that  there  was 
a tradition  that  the  amount  secured  was  greatly  in  excess 
of  this  sum — “fue  excesivamente  mayor  el  caudal  que  el 
que  corresponde  a los  quintos.”  1 

Middendorf  estimates  Toledo’s  find  at  a million  dollars 
more  than  the  amount  given  by  Feyjoo,  while  Hutchin- 
son’s calculations,  based  on  the  accounts  found  among  the 

by  Mr.  F.  Hewitt  Myring,  who  declares  that  some  of  the  ceramic  specimens 
found  in  Chimu  “are  so  very  beautiful  that  experts  on  the  subject  of  pottery 
say  that  nothing  finer  has  been  seen  from  the  days  of  ancient  Greece  to  the 
present.  This  pottery  proved,  by  its  modelling  and  drawing,  that  long  before 
we  had  any  knowledge  of  art  in  Europe,  in  that  country  now  called  Peru, 
there  existed  an  artistic,  sensitive  race,  who  wore  elaborate  clothing,  who 
were  well  governed  and  were  law-abiding;  Peru,  which  to-day  is  to  many 
of  us  a terra  incognita,  was  one  of  the  most  civilized  parts  of  the  earth.” 
The  Geographical  Journal,  p.  395,  London,  Oct.,  1910. 

i Relacion  Descriptiva  de  la  Ciudad  i Provincia  de  Trujillo  del  Peru,  por 
El  Dr.  D.  Miguel  Feyjbo,  Madrid,  1763. 

275 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


municipal  records  of  Trujillo,  make  the  sum  total  of  the 
treasure  found  by  Toledo  almost  four  and  a half  million 
dollars  in  gold.1 

Unfortunately  for  the  cacique  of  Mansiche  and  his  peo- 
ple, the  Spaniards  failed  to  keep  their  contract  and  the 
Indians  got  nothing  of  this  colossal  pile  of  gold  that  had 
been  collected  by  their  forefathers.  In  the  hope  of  secur- 
ing something,  the  wily  chief  then  told  the  Spaniards  that 
he  knew  where  there  was  concealed  a similar,  but  much 
larger,  treasure.  So  far,  he  declared,  they  had  found  only 
the  peje  cliico — the  little  fish.2  There  was  still,  he  averred, 
the  peje  grande — the  big  fish — which  represented  an 
amount  of  gold  incomparably  greater  than  that  furnished 
by  the  peje  cliico. 

Whether  the  Indian’s  story  was  true  or  merely  a ruse 
to  secure  a part  of  the  treasure  to  which  he  was  entitled, 
the  Spaniards  made  haste  to  secure  the  good  will  of  the 
cacique,  and  the  information  he  pretended  to  be  able  to 
give.  They  accordingly  made  up  for  the  benefit  of  him- 
self and  his  people  a collection  amounting  to  more  than 
forty  thousand  dollars.  He  then  pointed  out  the  place 
where  he  said  the  treasure  was  buried. 

Search  for  the  peje  grande  was  then  begun  without  de- 
lay. The  large  huacas  were  honeycombed  by  excavators, 
but  with  little  result — except  possibly  in  the  case  of  one 
Escobar  Corchuelo,  who,  according  to  Calancha,  secured 
no  less  than  six  hundred  thousand  dollars— until  the  latter 
part  of  the  last  century.  Then  a Chilian,  Colonel  La 
Eosa  by  name,  described  as  “the  most  enthusiastic  and 
persistent  treasure  hunter  of  Trujillo,  where  rummaging 

1 Two  Years  in  Peru,  Vol.  II,  Chap.  XXVI.  In  a note  to  his  translation 
of  Cieza  de  Leon’s  first  part  of  the  Chronicle  of  Peru,  p.  243,  Clements  R. 
Markham  makes  the  amount  of  treasure  taken  from  the  huacas  of  The  Great 
Chimu  in  the  years  1566  and  1592  equal  to  £1,724,220 — nearly  $9,000,000  of 
our  money. 

2 The  fish  was  an  object  of  adoration  among  the  Chimus,  and,  hence,  the 
frequent  occurrence  among  the  ruins  of  Chan-Chan  of  objects  of  fish-like 
form. 


276 


THE  REALM  OF  THE  GREAT  CHIMU 

for  tapadas,  or  treasures,  lias  been  a passion”  since  the 
time  of  Toledo,  began  a quest  for  the  fabulous  “big  fish” 
with  all  eagerness  and  fond  anticipation  of  a gambler  at 
Monte  Carlo.  In  the  beginning  he  was  rewarded  by  dis- 
covering gold  objects  of  various  kinds,  that  netted  him 
about  thirty  thousand  dollars.  The  search  for  the  peje 
grande  now  became  a mania  with  him  and  he  devoted  the 
greater  part  of  the  remaining  years  of  his  long  life  to  ex- 
cavating huacas,  but  with  no  result  except  the  loss  of  all 
the  money  he  had  gained  by  his  first  stroke  of  good  luck, 
and  the  posthumous  honor  of  having  one  of  the  huacas, 
in  which  he  labored,  named  La  Rosa. 

It  is  now  three  and  a half  centuries  since  the  cacique  of 
Mansiche  announced  the  existence  of  the  peje  grande,  and 
yet,  notwithstanding  all  the  fruitless  attempts  that  have 
been  made  to  find  it,  and  the  fortunes  that  have  been 
squandered  in  excavations  which  yield  nothing  but  a few 
trinkets  and  a countless  number  of  skeletons,  the  quest 
for  this  legendary  treasure  still  continues  with  the  same 
feverish  activity  as  it  did  in  the  days  of  Toledo  and  La 
Rosa.  Thousands  have  implicit  faith  in  its  existence, 
but  where  is  it?  That  is  what  thousands  of  others,  through 
long  generations,  have  been  trying  to  determine;  what 
still  others  are  trying  to  find  out  to-day.  Even  at  the  time 
of  my  visit  some  of  the  leading  citizens  of  Trujillo  had  a 
crowd  of  excavators  at  work  among  the  ruins  of  Chan- 
Chan,  and,  to  hear  them  talk,  one  would  think  that  the  elu- 
sive “big  fish”  was  finally  within  their  grasp.  Here,  prob- 
ably, more  than  anywhere  else  in  the  wide  world,  does  one 
realize  the  truth  of  Pope’s  words, 

“Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast.” 

Does  the  long-sought-for  treasure  really  exist,  or  did  the 
astute  Don  Antonio  Chayhuac,  knowing  the  cupidity  of  the 
Spaniards,  invent  the  story  in  order  to  lure  them  into  pay- 
ing him  the  sum  stipulated  in  the  contract  they  had  so 
shamefully  repudiated?  Who  can  tell?  The  story  of  the 

277 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


peje  grande  may  be  like  the  one  regarding  the  massive 
gold  chain  cast  into  the  lake  of  Urcos,  like  the  stories  of 
untold  treasures  in  Lake  Titicaca,  in  the  caves  on  the  lofty 
flanks  of  Illimani,  in  the  underground  chambers  of  Cuzco, 
in  the  obscure  recesses  of  the  mountains  of  Ecuador.  But 
whether  true  or  false,  it  is  highly  improbable  that 
there  shall  in  the  near  future  be  any  abatement  in  the 
faith  and  ardor  which  have  ever  characterized  the  treasure 
hunters  of  South  America  since  the  time  of  the  conquest. 

As  I stood  on  the  summit  of  one  of  the  large  teocali-like 
mounds  that  tower  above  the  surrounding  ruins,  and  sur- 
veyed the  silent  scene  of  desolation  before  me,  my  mind 
was  besieged  by  the  same  host  of  questions  that  had  so 
frequently  assailed  it  while  in  the  presence  of  other  noted 
monuments  of  prehistoric  Peru.  I was  standing,  so  I 
was  told,  on  the  very  site  of  the  palace  of  The  Great  Chimu, 
and  had  before  me  the  evidence  of  a semi-civilization  that 
probably  long  antedated  that  of  the  Children  of  the  Sun. 
And,  the  Chimus,  be  it  said,  were  as  powerful  and  as  much 
feared  on  the  coast  as  were  the  Incas  on  the  plateau,  and 
their  capital  was,  in  the  temporal  order,  as  noted  as  was 
Pachacamac — the  old  Peruvian  Delphi — in  the  spiritual. 
Within  a stone’s  throw  from  me  were  the  remains  of  ace- 
quias  and  reservoirs,  by  means  of  which,  what  is  now  a bar- 
ren desert  was  converted  into  fertile  fields  and  verdant 
gardens  that  supplied  teeming  myriads  with  the  means  of 
subsistence.  The  crumbling  adobe  structures  below  me 
were  then  hives  of  industry  wherein  were  produced  those 
textile  fabrics,  those  objects  of  ceramic  art,  those  orna- 
ments of  the  goldsmith’s  skill,  that  reflect  such  credit  on 
Chimu  craftsmanship,  and  suggest  so  many  puzzling  prob- 
lems to  the  archaeologist  and  the  ethnologist.  Here  men 
lived  and  loved  for  long  centuries,  many  of  them  appar- 
ently enjoying  a life  of  comparative  affluence  and  luxury. 

But  what  a contrast  there  is  between  the  present  and 
the  past!  “Let  the  reader  imagine  himself,  for  a mo- 
ment withdrawn  from  the  sounds  and  motions  of  the  living 

278 


THE  REALM  OF  THE  GREAT  CHIMU 


world  and  sent  forth  into  this  wild  and  wasted  plain.  The 
earth  yields  and  crumbles  beneath  his  foot,  tread  he  never 
so  lightly,  for  its  substance  is  white,  hollow  and  carious, 
like  the  dusty  wreck  of  the  bones  of  men.  . . . Hillocks 

of  mouldering  earth  heave  around  him,  as  if  the  dead  be- 
neath were  struggling  in  their  sleep.”  Not  a sound  is 
heard  except  the  dull  stroke  of  the  huaquero’s  pick,  as  he 
feverishly  continues  among  the  mouldering  remains  of  a 
departed  race  the  eager  search  for  gold  that  was  begun 
by  his  ancestors  four  centuries  ago.  No  living  thing  is 
visible  except  a frightened  fox,  as  he  escapes  from  his 
sepulchral  burrow  and  scampers  across  the  arid  waste  to 
another  covert  nearer  the  ocean’s  shore.  And  as  the  crim- 
son sun  slowly  sinks  beneath  the  distant  Pacific  wave  “a 
dull  poisonous  haze  stretches  level  along  the  desert,  veil- 
ing its  spectral  wrecks  in  massy  ruins,  on  whose  rents  the 
red  light  rests,  like  dying  fire  on  defiled  altars.” 

As  we  contemplate  this  weird  scene  of  utter  desolation 
and  view  the  impressive  ruins  of  the  proud  capital  of  The 
Great  Chimu,  and  strive  to  correlate  it  with  the  romance 
of  forgotten  grandeur,  the  wonder  and  pathos  of  the  un- 
known past,  and  endeavor  to  form  a mental  picture  of  its 
departed  glory, 

“We  feel  that  Babel’s  tower  could  scarce  surpass 
In  rude,  wild  majesty,  this  wondrous  mass; 

That  far  Chaldea’s  sons  or  Egypt’s  kings, 

Sent  their  bold  genius  here  on  spirit  wings. 

For  strange,  between  each  nation,  seems  the  tie 
Of  kindred  creeds,  of  arts  and  modes  gone  by.” 

Who  were  the  mysterious  people  who  left  behind  them 
such  imposing  ruins  and  such  evidence  of  material  and  in- 
dustrial progress?  Whence  did  they  come?  When  did 
they  reach  this  spot  on  the  Rainless  Coast?  And,  if  they 
came  from  the  Old  World,  how  were  they  able  to  cross  the 
broad  waters  that  separate  the  Eastern  from  the  Western 
Hemisphere?  These  are  fundamental  questions,  I know, 

279 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


but  they  are  questions  that  always  press  for  an  answer 
when  one  is  in  the  presence  of  those  stupendous  ruins  that 
cumber  the  ground  from  the  smiling  valley  of  Anahuac  to 
the  bleak  plateau  of  Bolivia.  The  attempt  to  answer  any 
one  of  them  is  like  essaying  to  solve  the  long-debated  prob- 
lem regarding  the  original  inhabitants  of  America,  a prob- 
lem which  no  less  an  authority  than  the  Marquis  de 
Nadaillac  declares  to  be  “a  profound  mystery  and  probably 
forever  insoluble.  ” 1 

If,  in  seeking  an  answer  to  the  above  questions,  we  were 
to  confine  our  investigations  to  the  Chimus  alone,  we  could 
go  back  little  farther  than  the  concluding  years  of  the  reign 
of  their  last  monarch,  and  could  learn  little  more  than  what 
Garcilaso  tells  us  about  their  conquest  by  the  Incas,  and 
what  Calancha  and  Arriaga  have  to  say  about  their  cus- 
toms and  superstitions.  The  historian  Balboa,  it  is 
true,  refers  to  a tradition  according  to  which  the  Chi- 
mus were  descended  from  a people  that  came  by  sea  on 
rafts  from  the  north.2  But  aside  from  this  vague  and 
limited  information,  all  else  is  mere  conjecture,  and  not- 
withstanding the  progress  of  archaeology  in  Peru  in  recent 
years,  our  ignorance  respecting  this  extraordinary  people 
is  almost  as  profound  to-day  as  it  was  in  the  days  of  Pi- 
zarro. 

If,  then,  we  could  not  go  farther  afield  than  the 
realms  of  The  Great  Chimu  for  answers  to  the  ques- 
tions proposed,  we  might  well  subscribe  to  the  conclusion 
of  Nadaillac,  and  declare  with  the  poet, 

“Primeval  race!  their  story  who  shall  show? 

They  built,  they  reigned,  they  died — is  all  we  know.  ’ ’ 

Fortunately,  since  the  distinguished  Marquis  declared 
that  “ Le  probleme  des  premiers  habitants  de  V Amerique 

1 Les  Premiers  Hommes  et  Les  Temps  PrShistoriques,  Tom.  II,  p.  95,  Paris, 
1881. 

2 Histoire  du  P6rou,  Chap.  VII,  par  Miguel  Cavello  Balboa,  published  by 
H.  Ternaux — Compans,  Paris,  1840. 

280 


THE  REALM  OF  THE  GREAT  CHIMU 


reste  un  mystere  profond  et  probablement  a jamais  insol- 
uble/’ the  progress  of  research  along  various  lines  and 
especially  in  comparative  philology,  has  given  us  reason 
to  hope  that  men  of  science  shall  eventually  be  able  to  pene- 
trate the  mystery  that  has  so  long  enveloped  the  origin  of 
the  early  inhabitants  of  Peru,  and  that,  by  so  doing,  they 
shall  at  the  same  time  pave  the  way  for  the  solution  of  nu- 
merous other  problems  regarding  the  American  aborigi- 
nes, which  have  engaged  the  attention  of  investigators 
ever  since  Columbus  gave  a new  world  to  Castile  and 
Leon. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  weary  the  reader  by  a disquisi- 
tion on  topics  that  have  been  so  often  treated  ex  professo 
by  men  who  have  spent  long  years  on  the  problem  which 
Nadaillac  pronounces  insoluble,  but  a few  words  regarding 
some  of  the  opinions  that  have  been  held  and  the  trend  of 
contemporary  thought  concerning  this  most  interesting 
question  seem  to  be  required  to  complete  what  has  already 
been  stated  respecting  the  monuments  and  peoples  of  the 
most  fascinating  part  of  South  America. 

It  may  be  premised  that  a certain  school  of  polygenists 
cut  the  Gordian  knot  by  the  bold  assertion  that  the  Ameri- 
can race,  like  the  nobles  of  Athens,  is  autocthonous,  having 
sprung  directly  from  the  earth,  and  is  therefore  without 
any  relation  to  the  races  of  the  Old  World.  Such  is  the 
contention  of  Morton,  Nott  and  Gliddon,  not  to  mention 
others  who  hold  the  same  view.1  But  so  far  this  theory, 
although  not  without  supporters,  still  stands  in  the  same 
category  as  the  finding  of  a Scotch  jury,  “Not  proven.” 
The  reader  who  desires  information  on  the  traditional  view 
of  the  subject  will  find  it  admirably  presented  in  M.  de 
Quaterfages’  masterly  work,  The  Unity  of  the  Human 
Species. 

i Crania  Americana,  or  a Comparative  View  of  the  Skulls  of  Various 
Aboriginal  Nations  of  North  and  South  America,  Philadelphia,  1839;  Types 
of  Mankind,  Chaps.  IX  and  X,  Philadelphia,  1854,  and  The  Races  of  Men 
and  their  Geographical  Distribution,  New  York,  1848.  See  also,  L’Homms 
Am&ricain,  par  Alcide  d’Orbigny,  Paris,  1839. 

281 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

The  number  of  books  that  have  been  written  in  defense 
of  the  various  theories  which  have  been  evolved  regarding 
the  origin  of  the  Indians  would  fill  a large  library,  but 
most  of  these  theories  have  long  since  been  consigned  to  the 
limbo  of  fantastic  hypotheses. 

Montesinos,  as  we  have  already  seen,  tells  us  that  Peru 
was  first  peopled  by  a colony  from  Armenia  under  the 
leadership  of  Ophir,  the  grandson  of  the  patriarch  Noah. 
Scarcely  less  curious  is  the  view  of  the  Dominican,  Fray 
Gregorio  Garcia,  who  resided  for  a number  of  years  in 
Peru,  and  who,  as  early  as  1607,  published  a ponderous 
folio  entitled  Origen  de  los  Indios  del  Nuevo  Mundo  e 
Indias  Occidentales,  in  which  he  devotes  many  chapters 
to  the  theory  that  America  was  populated  by  the  lost  tribes 
of  Israel.1  Those  who  hold  this  view  base  their  opinion 
on  the  apocryphal  narrative  of  Esdras,  and  pretend  that 
when  the  Israelites  were  vanquished  and  led  into  captivity 
by  Salmanasar,  King  of  Assyria,  ten  tribes  were  separated 
from  the  others  and  betook  themselves  to  unknown  and  dis- 
tant regions.  After  journeying  a year  and  a half  and 
crossing  a large  body  of  water,  they  finally  reached  the 
land  of  Anian,  which  we  are  asked  to  believe  was  the  part 
of  the  world  now  known  as  America. 

The  most  remarkable  thing  about  this  seemingly  prepos- 
terous theory  is  its  extraordinary  vitality  and  the  number 
of  eminent  supporters  it  has  counted  even  in  recent  times. 
Among  these  is  Lord  Kingsborough,  who,  in  his  magnifi- 
cent work,  Antiquities  of  Mexico,  embracing  nine  volumes 
in  elephant  folio,  has  spent  a princely  fortune  to  prove 
that  it  is  to  the  lost  tribes  of  Israel  that  the  New  World 
owes  its  first  civilization.  The  noted  explorer,  the  Abbe 
Brasseur  de  Bourbourg,  expresses  his  astonishment  at  the 
Jewish  and  Egyptian  types  he  frequently  noted  among 
the  Indians  of  Mexico  and  Central  America. 

i Cf.  Oriycn  de  los  Indios  del  Peru,  Mejico,  Santa  F6  y Chile,  por  el  Dr. 
Diego  Andres  Rocha,  Oidor  de  la  Real  Audiencia  de  Lima,  de  la  Coleccion  de 
Libros  Raros  y Curiosos  que  Tratan  de  America,  Madrid,  1891. 

282 


THE  REALM  OF  THE  GREAT  CHIMU 


Among  these  peoples,  he  assures  us,  “the  general  char- 
acter of  the  most  ancient  stock  exhibits  many  features 
possessed  by  the  races  of  ancient  Palestine  and  Egypt. 
Here  one  observes  the  profile  of  the  Jew,  the  Arab  and  the 
Algerian  exactly  like  the  types  engraved  on  the  monuments 
of  Nineveh  and  Thebes.  There  is  also  a similarity  of  dress, 
manners  and  customs.”  1 

M.  Castelnau,  in  his  great  work  on  South  America,  Ex- 
pedition dans  les  Parties  Centrales  de  V Amerique  du  Sud ,2 
tells  of  a Jew  whom  he  met  at  Santarem,  on  the  banks  of 
the  Amazon,  who  declared  that,  in  the  idioms  which  are 
spoken  in  the  adjacent  regions,  there  may  be  found  more 
than  fifty  words  closely  resembling  Hebrew  words.  Other 
travelers  and  writers  have  also  spoken  of  the  existence 
of  Indians  in  the  Cordilleras  of  Jewish  origin,  basing  their 
conclusions  not  only  on  the  language  spoken  by  them  but 
also  on  their  various  religious  rites  and  customs  which, 
we  are  assured,  can  be  accounted  for  only  on  the  assump- 
tion that  these  Indians  are  really  of  the  seed  of  Abra- 
ham.3 

Aside  from  what  may  be  said  of  certain  religious  rites 
of  divers  Indian  tribes,  it  may  be  confidently  affirmed  that 
there  is  no  more  truth  in  the  purported  finding  of  Hebrew 
words  in  the  languages  and  dialects  spoken  in  the  Cordil- 
leras and  the  basin  of  the  Amazon,  than  there  is  in  the  be- 
lief, which  so  long  obtained,  that  the  peculiar  language 

1 Histoires  des  Nations  Civilizees  du  Mexique  et  del’  Amerique  Centrale 
durant  les  Siicles  antirieur  A Christophe  Colomb,  par  1’  Abbd  Brasseur  de 
Bourbourg,  Vol.  II,  p.  180,  Paris,  1857. 

2 Tom.  IV,  p.  267,  Paris,  1851. 

8 The  Hope  of  Israel,  by  Manasseh  Ben  Israel,  Amsterdam,  1650,  reprinted 
for  the  Jewish  Historical  Society  of  England,  London,  1901. 

Soledad  Acosta  de  Samper  contends  that  the  Jews  seen  in  Antioquia  in 
the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth  century  were  some  of  the  race  that  had 
been  driven  from  Spain  about  the  year  1500,  and  who  had  peopled  this  part 
of  New  Granada  before  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards  in  Tierra  Firme. 
Memorias  Presentadas  cn  Congresos  Internadonales  que  se  reunieron  en 
Espaha  durante  las  Fiestas  del  IV  Centemario  del  Descubrimiento  de  America 
en  1892.  Chartres,  1892. 


283 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


spoken  by  tlie  inhabitants  of  Eten — a small  town  north  of 
Trujillo,  and  formerly  within  the  dominions  of  The  Great 
Chimu — is  a dialect  of  the  Chinese.1 

But,  notwithstanding  all  the  errors  into  which  explor- 
ers and  savants  have  fallen  through  hasty  conclusions 
drawn  from  fancied  resemblances  between  the  languages 
of  the  New  and  Old  Worlds,  it  seems  now  that  the  first 
satisfactory  answer  to  be  received  regarding  the  long  vexed 
question  of  the  origin  of  the  American  aborigines  is  to 
come  from  comparative  philology.  And  it  looks  also  as  if 
the  honor  of  solving  this  age-old  problem  is  to  redound  in 
great  measure,  if  not  entirely,  to  South  American  philolo- 
gists. 

The  first  of  these  to  attract  the  attention  of  scholars  out- 
side of  his  own  country  was  Vicente  Fidel  Lopez,  of  Monte- 
video, who  in  his  remarkable  work,  Les  Races  Aryans  du 
Perou,  endeavors  to  establish  a connection  between  the 
Quichua  language  and  the  language  of  central  Asia,  and 
so  successfully  has  he  defended  this  thesis  that  there  are 
not  a few  who  are  disposed  to  accept  his  conclusion  as  de- 
finitive. It  is  in  substance  as  follows: — The  languages, 
the  theogonies,  the  legends,  the  arts,  the  industries, 
the  science  of  the  Aryans  and  the  Quichuas  prove  the 
unity  of  the  two  races,  who  have  for  ages  peopled  and 
civilized  the  two  great  continents  of  which  our  world  is 
formed.2 

A second  student  who  has  long  been  engaged  in  the  same 
line  of  research  is  a Peruvian,  Pablo  Padron,  of  Lima. 
In  his  monumental  work,  which  is  to  embrace  thirteen  oc- 
tavo volumes,  several  of  which  are  already  published,  he 
undertakes  “to  demonstrate  the  Sumero-Assyrian  origin 
of  the  Kichua  languages,  which  are  still  spoken  by  the  in- 

1 Raimondi  dismisses  this  ill-founded  belief  in  the  following  words : “De 

todas  mis  investigaciones  resulta,  que  es  absolutamente  falso  que  los  Chinos 
hablan  en  su  lengua  con  los  habitantes  de  Eten,  y que  se  comprendan  mu- 
tuamente  Chinos  y Etanos,”  El  Peru,  Tom.  I,  p.  329. 

2 P.  341. 


284 


THE  REALM  OF  THE  GREAT  CHIMU 


digenes  of  this  country  and  Bolivia.  ’ ’ 1 How  successful 
this  industrious  and  enthusiastic  investigator  will  he  in  his 
self-imposed  task,  remains  to  be  seen.  He  appears  to  be 
very  sanguine  regarding  the  result  of  his  researches,  and  if 
his  labors  should  be  crowned  with  success,  the  scholars  of 
the  world  will  be  only  too  glad  to  accord  him  all  the  honor 
that  such  a signal  achievement  shall  merit. 

But  even  after  a connection  shall  have  been  established 
between  the  language  of  the  Incas  and  the  language  of  the 
ancient  rulers  of  Mesopotamia,  there  will  be  other  inter- 
esting problems  to  solve,  although  not  of  such  transcend- 
ent importance  as  that  of  the  origin  of  the  languages 
of  the  American  aborigines.  For  the  proof  of  a linguistic 
nesus  between  the  languages  of  America  and  Asia  will  con- 
tribute much  towards  a complete  demonstration  of  the 
unity  of  the  various  races  of  mankind,  and  will,  at  the  same 
time,  signalize  a most  notable  advance  in  the  science  of  an- 
thropology. 

When  the  first  representatives  of  the  human  family  ap- 
peared in  Peru,  it  is  impossible  even  to  conjecture.  But 
that  it  was  many  long  ages  ago,  and  probably  long  before 
the  Christian  era,  appears  beyond  doubt.  Leaving  to  oth- 
ers to  determine  the  value  of  the  speculations  of  Amegliino 
and  Lehman-Nitsche  respecting  the  early  appearance  of 
man  in  Argentina,2  and  reserving  for  the  future  the  task 
of  deciding  the  relationship  between  Homo  pcimpceus  of 
South  America  and  Homo  primigenius  of  Europe,  who,  we 
are  asked  to  believe,  walked  the  earth  with  the  megalonyx 
and  the  palseotherium,  and  confining  ourselves  solely  to 
the  evidence  of  man’s  existence  within  the  present  bounda- 
ries of  Peru,  we  are  warranted  in  placing  the  advent  of 
man  in  the  land  of  the  Incas  at  a date  long  anterior  to  that 

1 Ruevos  Estudios  solve  las  Lenguas  Americanas-Origen  del  Kechua  y del 
Aimara,  Tom.  I,  p.  1,  Leipzig,  1907. 

2 Rotas  preliminares  sobre  el  Tetraprothomo  argentinus  in  the  Anales  del 
Museo  nacional  de  Buenos  Ayres,  Tom.  XVI,  pp.  107,  242,  1907,  and  Nouvclles 
recherclies  sur  la  formation  pamp6enne  et  V liomme  fossile  de  la  Republique 
Argentine  in  the  Revista  del  Museo  de  la  Plata,  Tom.  XIV,  pp.  193,  488. 

285 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

given  by  Garcilaso  for  the  appearance  of  Manco  Capac 
and  his  sister-wife  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Titicaca. 

A study  of  the  ruins  on  the  Andean  plateau  and  along 
the  Peruvian  coast  land  affords  incontestable  evidence  of 
the  existence  of  several  waves  of  migration.  This  fact, 
which  has  only  recently  received  due  recognition  from  men 
of  science,  is  of  itself  sufficient  to  prove  that  the  antiquity 
of  our  race  in  Peru  is  far  greater  than  has  hitherto  been 
imagined.1 

The  argument  for  man’s  antiquity,  based  on  the  monu- 
ments everywhere  found  in  Peru,  is  confirmed  by  the  ex- 
istence of  domesticated  plants  and  animals. 

De  Candolle,  referring  to  the  age  of  cultivated  plants, 
expresses  himself  as  follows:  “Men  have  not  discovered 
and  cultivated  within  the  last  two  thousand  years  a single 
species  which  can  rival  maize,  rice,  the  sweet  potato,  the 
breadfruit,  the  date,  cereals,  millets,  sorghums,  the  ba- 
nana, soy.  These  date  from  three,  four  or  five  thousand 
years,  perhaps  even  in  some  cases,  six  thousand  years.’!2 
When  one  remembers  that  some  of  the  most  important  of 
these  species  are  indigenous  to  America,  the  force  of  the 
argument  in  question  will  be  manifest. 

Among  the  domestic  animals  of  the  ancient  Peruvians 
were  the  llama,  the  alpaca,  the  allko  or  dog,  a species  of 
guinea-pig,  called  the  cuy,  and  a species  of  duck.  Of  these 
the  llama  and  the  alpaca  are  not  known  to  exist  in  the  wild 
state,  and  this  fact,  conjoined  with  the  great  variety  ex- 
hibited in  the  colors  of  their  fleeces,  points  to  a very  long 
period  of  domestication.  And  their  ability  to  domesticate 
so  many  animals,  it  may  be  remarked,  is  not  only  an  evi- 
dence of  the  antiquity  of  the  aborigines  of  Peru,  but  also 
a test  of  their  capacity  for  civilization.  “The  inferiority 
of  the  African,  as  compared  with  the  Hindu,  is  demon- 
strated by  the  latter  having  domesticated  the  elephant, 
and  made  it  the  useful  and  hard-working  companion  of 

1 See  Dr.  Uhle’s  Pachacamac,  p.  45  et  seq. 

2 The  Origin  of  Cultivated  Plants,  p.  457,  New  York,  1885. 

286 


THE  REALM  OF  THE  GREAT  CHIMU 


man;  while  the  former,  during  the  thousands  of  years  he 
has  inhabited  the  African  continent,  has  never  achieved 
any  such  result,  and  has  merely  destroyed  the  elephant 
for  the  sake  of  the  ivory.”  1 

How  the  original  inhabitants  of  South  America  were 
able  to  traverse  the  long  distances  which  separated  the  Old 
from  the  New  World  is  not  our  province  to  decide.  That 
has  been  a matter  of  discussion  since  the  discovery  of  Amer- 
ica, and  we  are  still  destitute  of  positive  knowledge  re- 
garding the  subject.  Without,  however,  assuming  the  ex- 
istence of  an  Atlantis  connecting  Europe  with  the  Antilles, 
or  a strip  of  land  bridging  the  Atlantic  between  Africa 
and  Brazil,  or  a series  of  contiguous  islands  stretching 
across  the  Pacific,  we  can  find  in  any  one  of  a dozen  theo- 
ries, that  have  at  divers  times  been  propounded  by  various 
investigators,  a plausible,  if  not  satisfactory,  explanation 
of  the  manner  in  which  the  inhabitants  of  the  Old  World 
were,  in  ages  long  past,  able  to  reach  the  distant  shores  of 
the  New.2  Future  investigators  will  doubtless  clear  up 
many  difficulties  still  investing  this  interesting  problem, 
and  they  may  even  be  able  to  prove  to  a reasonable  cer- 
tainty the  existence  of  several  lines  of  migration  followed 
by  prehistoric  man  on  his  way  from  the  Eastern  to  the 
Western  Hemisphere.  Until  such  certainty  is  forthcoming, 
we  shall  be  content  with  that  probability  which  is  the  guide 
of  science  as  well  as  the  guide  of  life. 

1 Markham,  in  the  introduction  to  The  Travels  of  Pedro  de  Cieza  de  Leon, 
p.  XXIV,  London,  1864. 

2 For  the  lovers  of  the  curious,  it  may  be  stated  that  there  are  not  wanting 
those  who  incline  to  the  belief  that  the  original  home  of  our  race  was  in 
the  New,  and  not  in  the  Old  World,  and  who  would  see  in  Homo  pampaeus 
the  common  ancestor  of  mankind.  Even  Columbus  was  disposed  to  lo- 
cate the  Garden  of  Eden,  somewhere  in  the  continent,  watered  by  the  great 
Orinoco.  Following  the  Conquistadores  up  the  Orinoco  and  Down  the  Mag- 
dalena, Chap.  II. 

In  this  connection  one  may  recall  the  theory  of  Brasseur  de  Bourbourg, 
who  makes  America  the  cradle  of  our  race.  According  to  this  theory,  the 
Old  World  was  peopled  from  the  New  and  it  was  from  America  that  Egypt 
and  Syria  received  their  domestic  animals,  their  arts,  their  industries,  their 
hieroglyphics,  and  even  their  religious  rites. 

287 


CHAPTER  XVI 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  PIZARRO  AND  ORSUA 

In  his  Historia  del  Peru,  which  constitutes  the  third  part 
of  his  unpublished  work  entitled  Miscellanea  Austral,  Mi- 
guel Cavello  Balboa,  one  of  the  early  chroniclers  of  the 
New  World,  writes  as  follows:  “When  Pizarro  arrived 

in  the  valley  of  Chimu  he  was  greatly  astonished  at  the 
grandeur  and  the  beauty  of  the  edifices  which  had  been 
constructed  by  the  ancient  kings  of  this  country.  It  was 
in  this  valley  that  Pizarro,  in  1535,  founded  the  city  of 
Trujillo.  From  Chimu  the  Spaniards  directed  their  course 
towards  Caxamarca,  where  Atahualpa  had  been  for  fifteen 
or  twenty  days.”  1 

This  statement  regarding  the  route  of  the  conquista- 
dores  during  their  march  from  Tumbez  to  Cajamarca  does 
not,  I know,  accord  with  what  other  historians  tell  us  re- 
garding Pizarro ’s  itinerary  from  the  coast  to  the  Andean 
plateau,  and  is  quite  at  variance  with  the  opinion  expressed 
by  Raimondi  in  his  work,  El  Peru.2  So  diverse,  however, 
are  the  opinions  that  have  been  entertained  respecting  the 
actual  route  of  the  Spaniards  on  their  way  up  the  western 
flank  of  the  Cordillera,  and  so  great  is  the  uncertainty 
which  still  prevails  concerning  it,  that  no  one  is  yet  war- 
ranted in  accepting  any  one  opinion  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
others.  And  until  we  have  more  information  on  the  sub- 
ject, we  may  believe  with  Balboa  that  Pizarro  and  his  gal- 
lant band  really  did  go  as  far  south  as  the  capital  of  The 
Great  Chimu,  before  advancing  towards  Cajamarca,  which 

1 In  Voyages  Relations  et  M6moires  Originaux,  p.  313,  publies  par  Ternaux- 
Compans,  Paris,  1840. 

2 Tom.  II,  p.  19  et  seq. 


288 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  PIZARRO  AND  ORSUA 


then  enjoyed  the  honor  of  being  a kind  of  second  capital  of 
the  great  Inca  empire. 

It  was  early  in  the  morning  that  I left  Trujillo  and  the 
kind  and  hospitable  people  who  had  made  my  stay  in  the 
City  of  Liberty  so  delightful.  My  next  objective  point  was 
Casa  Grande,  the  center  of  the  most  extensive  and  most 
productive  sugar  plantation  in  Peru.  I was  accompanied 
by  the  superintendent  of  the  railroad,  who  was  kind  enough 
to  put  a special  train  at  my  disposition,  and  the  manager 
of  the  hacienda,  whose  guest  I was  to  be  during  my  sojourn 
in  Casa  Grande.  The  former  was  a genial  and  wide-awake 
American,  from  Wisconsin,  and  the  latter  a young  and  en- 
terprising German,  Mr.  G , who  is  recognized  as  one 

of  the  most  progressive  business  men  in  the  republic. 
Both  of  them  were  eager  to  have  me  see  the  famous  Chi- 
cama  valley,  part  of  which  has  been  noted  since  the  con- 
quest for  its  marvelous  fertility — and  they  left  nothing 
undone  that  would  conduce  to  my  convenience  and  pleasure. 
To  both  of  them  I am  indebted  for  some  of  the  most 
delightful  days  spent  in  the  department  of  Libertad,  and 
I shall  always  remember  their  courtesy  and  kindness  with 
profound  gratitude. 

On  our  way  to  Casa  Grande,  which  is  but  an  hour  by  rail 
from  Trujillo,  I had  an  opportunity  of  inspecting  the  re- 
mains of  the  wonderful  acequias  that  formerly  watered  the 
lands  of  The  Great  Chimu  and  that  converted  an  arid  desert 
into  fertile  fields  and  gardens  adequate  to  furnish  subsist- 
ence to  the  teeming  thousands  who  dwelt  in  and  around 
the  great  metropolis  that  stood  on  the  site  now  occupied 
by  the  crumbling  ruins  of  Chan-Chan.  If  we  are  to  credit 
Montesinos,  it  was  by  severing  these  acequias  that  the  vic- 
torious Inca  Tupac  Yupanqui  was  able  to  get  possession  of 
Chimu  and  force  its  inhabitants  to  acknowledge  the  su- 
premacy of  the  Children  of  the  Sun.1 

Quite  near  the  road  between  Trujillo  and  Casa  Grande 
are  the  remains  of  the  great  mampostena — reservoir — 

i Memorias  Antiguas  del  Peru,  Cap.  XXVII. 

289 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


used  by  the  Chimus  to  irrigate  their  lands  and  supply  their 
capital  with  water.  It  was  an  immense  work,  and,  as  a 
feat  of  engineering,  must  deeply  impress  every  one  who 
examines  its  massive  retaining  wall.  It  is  estimated  that 
it  was  capable  of  containing  nearly  two  billion  cubic  feet 
of  water,  and  it  would  compare  favorably  with  any  similar 
work  ever  executed  in  the  land  of  the  Incas. 

I was  intensely  interested  in  Casa  Grande,  as  it  shows 
what  irrigation  can  accomplish  on  the  rainless  coast  of 
Peru.  Prior  to  1873  this  section  of  the  Chicama  valley  had 
long  been  a barren  desert,  and  the  land  was  deemed  to  be 
of  little  or  no  value  for  cultivation.  No  one  then  dreamed 
that  it  would,  in  the  near  future,  contain  the  largest  and 
most  prosperous  sugar  plantation  in  Peru. 

But  shortly  before  this  time,  Herr  Ludwig  Albrecht,  a 
keen,  enterprising  son  of  the  Fatherland,  like  so  many  of 
his  countrymen  who  have  achieved  distinction  in  commerce 
and  industry  in  South  America,  made  a visit  to  this  part  of 
the  republic.  Finding  evidence  that  the  valley  had  at  one 
time  been  under  cultivation,  and  desirous  of  learning  how 
vegetation  could  have  been  supported  in  such  a rainless 
region,  he  determined  to  discover  the  irrigating  canal  that 
must  have  supplied  the  necessary  water  for  such  an  ex- 
tensive territory.  He  soon  came  across  traces  of  it,  and, 
continuing  his  search,  he  was  finally  rewarded  by  finding 
the  point  in  the  river  where  its  waters  had  entered  the 
long-neglected  and  long-forgotten  canal.  He  then  pro- 
ceeded without  delay  to  buy  up  immense  tracts  of  land 
along  the  line  of  the  old  acequia,  and  was,  fortunately  for 
himself,  able  to  make  his  purchases  at  a nominal  price. 
Having  secured  all  the  land  he  desired,  he  restored  the 
canal,  which  probably  dated  from  the  time  of  the  Chimus, 
to  its  pristine  condition,  and  almost  before  his  neighbors 
were  aware  of  his  purpose,  he  had  a large  part  of  the  long- 
abandoned  valley  of  Chicama  blooming  as  a rose  in  June. 

To-day  the  plantation,  which  was  begun  a few  decades 
ago  under  such  peculiar  circumstances,  is  not  only  the  larg- 

290 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  PIZARRO  AND  ORSUA 


est  in  Peru,  but  also — considering  that  the  sugar  mills 
and  the  plantation  belong  to  the  same  company — the  larg- 
est in  the  world.  Together  with  the  other  haciendas  in 
the  valley,  it  produces  more  sugar  than  the  entire  island 
of  Puerto  Rico,  and  the  output  is  of  such  excellent  quality 
that  it  finds  a ready  market.  Most  of  the  first  grade 
goes  to  Chile,  while  the  third  and  fourth  grades  are  shipped 
to  England,  where  the  better  kind  is  used  in  the  produc- 
tion of  porter,  and  the  poorer  kind  is  employed  in  the 
manufacture  of  cigars. 

The  climate  of  the  Chicama  valley  reminds  one  of 
Homer’s  Elysium,  which  was  located  in  the  western  part 
of  the  earth  near  Ocean — a place  where  there  is  neither 
snow  nor  cold  nor  rain,  and  which  is  “always  fanned  by 
the  delightful  breezes  of  Zephyrus,”  or  of  Olympus,  as  pic- 
tured in  the  Odyssey, 

“.  . . Which  never  storms 

Disturb,1  rains  drench,  or  snow  invades,  but  calm 
The  expanse  and  cloudless  shines  with  purest  day.” 

Owing  to  this  warm  and  equable  climate,  and  the  fer- 
tility of  the  soil,  the  cane  in  this  favored  region  is  ready 
for  cutting  only  nineteen  months  after  it  is  planted.  This 
is  much  less  time  than  is  usually  required  for  maturity 
elsewhere.  Then  the  quantity  of  sugar  in  the  cane  is  very 
great  compared  with  that  obtained  from  cane  in  many  other 
parts  of  the  world.  The  amount  of  sugar  in  the  juice  runs 
as  high  as  twenty  per  cent.,  while  the  proportion  of  sugar 
to  the  weight  of  the  cane  varies  from  eleven  and  a half  to 
twelve  and  a half  per  cent.  The  cane  is  cut  every  nineteen 
months  and  the  yield  in  sugar  averages  six  tons  to  the  acre. 
The  actual  cost  of  the  best  quality  of  sugar,  when  the  sea- 
son is  favorable,  does  not  exceed  one  dollar  gold  per  hun- 
dred pounds. 

In  the  cultivation  of  the  cane,  and  in  its  conversion  into 

1 So  light  are  the  variations  of  air-pressure  in  this  part  of  Peru  that 
the  changes  indicated  by  the  barometer  are  little  more  than  nominal. 

291 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


sugar,  all  the  latest  and  most  approved  methods  are  em- 
ployed. The  machinery  is  thoroughly  up-to-date,  and  in 
charge  of  experts  and  chemists  who  have  reduced  every 
phase  of  the  sugar-making  industry  to  a system  that  can- 
not be  surpassed. 

The  total  population  of  Casa  Grande,  and  its  dependent 
haciendas,  is  eleven  thousand,  nearly  one-fourth  of  which 
is  engaged  in  the  mills  or  on  the  plantations.  The  daily 
wage  of  the  employes  varies  from  fifty  cents  to  $1.20  in 
addition  to  which  each  one  is  provided  with  free  lodging, 
and  receives  a daily  allowance  of  one  pound  of  meat  and  a 
pound  and  a half  of  rice.  The  Sociedad  Agricola,  Casa 
Grande — so  this  corporation  is  called — provides  nine 
schools  for  the  free  education  of  the  children  of  its  em- 
ployes. The  two  schools  in  the  town  of  Casa  Grande,  which 
I visited,  are  in  the  hands  of  excellent  teachers  and  the 
success  of  their  work  is  manifest  as  soon  as  one  enters  the 
class-rooms.  These  two  schools,  it  may  be  observed,  are 
named  Coronel  Bolognesi  and  Almirante  Grau,  in  memory 
of  two  of  Peru’s  favorite  heroes. 

The  company  has  two  doctors  on  its  pay-roll,  who  devote 
all  their  time  gratuitously  to  the  care  of  the  workmen  and 
their  families.  Shortly  before  my  arrival,  the  inhabitants 
were  threatened  with  the  bubonic  plague,  but  thanks  to 
the  prophylactic  measures  adopted,  which  were  in  keeping 
with  the  latest  advances  of  medical  science,  the  threatened 
ravages  of  the  mucli-dreaded  malady  were  avoided,  although 
the  number  of  victims  claimed  by  the  plague  at  points  not 
far  distant,  where  such  precautions  had  not  been  taken,  was 
as  large  as  its  devastations  were  frightful. 

At  first  sight  there  seems  to  be  something  Utopian  about 
the  management  of  the  affairs  of  the  company,  especially  in 
its  dealings  with  its  employes.  But  such  is  not  the  case. 
Everything  betokens  the  hard  common  sense  of  the  Ger- 
man proprietors  and  managers  whose  efforts  in  building  up 
their  enormous  business  have  been  crowned  with  such  sig- 
nal success.  There  is,  indeed,  something  patriarchal  in 

292 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  PIZARRO  AND  ORSUA 

the  relation  between  the  manager  of  Casa  Grande  and  the 
families  living  on  the  vast  estate  under  his  direction.  Or 
probably  it  would  be  truer  to  say  that  this  relationship  is 
something  like  that  which,  in  times  long  past,  obtained 
between  the  Inca  and  his  subjects.  Be  that  as  it  may,  all 
those  who  are  connected  with  the  company,  especially  the 
peons  and  their  families,  are  well  cared  for,  as  one  soon 
learns  who  visits  the  people  in  their  homes.  All  seem  con- 
tented and  happy.  There  are  no  strikes  and  none  of  those 
clashes  between  capital  and  labor  that  are  so  frequent  in 
the  United  States  and  Europe.  The  rule  governing  the 
workmen,  while  engaged  in  the  large  factory  at  Casa 
Grande,  may  be  summed  up  in  the  words  over  the  main 
portal — Tace,  ora  et  labor  a — observe  silence,  pray  and 
work. 

The  dividends  of  the  company  for  years  past  have 
amounted  to  twelve  per  cent. ; but,  if  the  trust,  which  is  in 
contemplation,  can  be  formed,  it  is  confidently  asserted  that 
the  fortunate  stockholders  will  receive  fully  thirty-five  or 
forty  per  cent,  annually  on  their  investment. 

I have  dwelt  somewhat  at  length  on  Casa  Grande  because 
it  is  a striking  object  lesson  of  what  can  be  accomplished 
in  a few  years  by  well-directed  effort  and  intelligent  en- 
terprise. In  what,  only  a generation  ago,  was  but  a soli- 
tary waste  of  parched  earth  and  hills  of  sand  there  is  now 
a smiling  oasis  and  one  of  the  most  flourishing  communi- 
ties in  the  entire  republic. 

While  contemplating  the  transformation  that  has  been  ef- 
fected by  the  genius  and  energy  of  one  man  within  the  space 
of  a few  years,  and  observing  the  traces  of  the  agricultural 
achievements  of  the  indigenous  races  before  the  conquest 
— traces  seen  in  ruined  acequias,  reservoirs  and  andenes 
still  existing  on  plain  and  mountain  side — I found  it  easy 
to  believe  the  accounts,  often  pronounced  incredible,  re- 
garding the  teeming  population  that  formerly  made  their 
homes  in  what  is  now  a desert  coast-land  or  an  arid 
plateau,  and  it  was  no  longer  difficult  to  conceive  how 

293 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


the  capital  of  the  Chimus  could  number  a hundred  thou- 
sand souls.1 

No  better  illustration  could  be  found  in  Peru  or  else- 
where of  the  benefits  accruing  from  the  reclamation  of 
neglected  territory  or  from  the  conservation  of  national 
resources.  I do  not  mean  by  this  to  say  that  Casa  Grande 
is  the  only  place  where  irrigation  has  been  successfully 
introduced  in  Peru.  Far  from  it.  Hundreds  of  thousands 
of  acres  are  now  irrigated  in  the  valleys  of  Nasca,  Chira, 
Lomas,  Rimac  and  in  other  parts  of  the  coast-land.  And 
the  remarkable  fact  is  that  much  of  this  land  has  been  re- 
claimed by  restoring  the  old  canals  of  the  Incas  and  other 
indigenous  tribes. 

But  the  amount  of  land  so  far  brought  under  cultivation 
is  but  a small  part  of  that  which  is  susceptible  of  irriga- 
tion. According  to  investigations  made  by  experts  of  the 
United  States  Geological  Survey  and  Reclamation  Service, 
there  are  nearly  three  million  acres  of  land  along  the 
coastal  region  of  Peru,  that  is  now  a barren  desert,  which 
can  be  converted  into  productive  farms  and  gardens  by 
means  of  irrigation  canals,  or  simply  by  restoring  the 
acequias  that  were  built  by  the  Peruvian  indigene  cen- 
turies ago,  some  of  which,  surprising  as  it  may  seem,  are 
yet  in  a comparatively  good  state  of  preservation. 

In  no  country  in  the  world,  not  in  Mexico  nor  in  Egypt 
nor  in  Mesopotamia,  where  the  watering  of  the  soil  re- 
ceived such  careful  attention,  was  irrigation  carried  to  such 
a state  of  perfection  as  in  the  land  of  the  Incas,  and  in  no 
part  of  the  globe,  not  even  in  China  or  Japan,  was  there 

i According  to  Garland,  op.  cit.,  pp.  82-83,  the  present  population  of  Peru 
is  about  three  and  a half  million  inhabitants.  Of  these,  fifty  per  cent,  are 
Indians,  fifteen  per  cent,  whites,  mostly  of  Spanish  origin,  two  and  a half 
per  cent,  negroes,  one  per  cent.  Chinese  and  Japanese  and  thirty-one  and  a 
half  per  cent,  mestizos,  chiefly  of  Indian  and  Spanish  descent. 

P.  Ricardo  Cappa,  his  Historia  del  Peru,  Lib.  I,  Appendice  III,  estimates 
the  population  of  the  Inca  Empire  under  Huascar  at  four  millions,  at  most. 
He  agrees,  however,  with  Humboldt,  that  in  “speaking  of  the  population: 
existing  in  America  before  the  conquest  is  like  speaking  of  the  populations 
of  ancient  Egypt,  Persia,  Greece  and  Latium.” 

294 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  PIZARRO  AND  ORSUA 


ever  a greater  husbanding  of  the  national  resources  than 
there  was  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  vast 
dominions  of  the  Children  of  the  Sun.  The  people  in  the 
United  States,  especially  those  who  live  in  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain region,  have  much  to  learn  from  them,  and  the  sooner 
they  profit  by  the  lessons  taught  by  the  Peruvians  of  long 
ago  the  sooner  will  they  see  the  vast  wilderness  of  sand  and 
sage-brush  that  extends  from  the  Columbia  to  the  Rio 
Grande  transformed  into  broad  grain  fields  and  extensive 
orchards  of  untold  value  and  productiveness. 

I spent  two  days  in  and  about  Casa  Grande  and  enjoyed 
every  moment  of  the  time.  When  I prepared  to  depart,  the 
charming  and  hospitable  family  of  my  good  host  gently 
expostulated  with  me  for  making  my  visit  so  brief.  “We 
had  hoped,  when  you  arrived,”  one  of  them  was  kind 
enough  to  say,  “that  you  would  give  us  an  opportunity  of 
getting  acquainted  with  you,  but  the  first  greetings  are 
scarcely  over  when  you  make  haste  to  leave  us.  ’ ’ They  all 
insisted  that  I should  make  them  a longer  visit  the  next 
time  I came  to  Peru,  and  on  my  agreeing  to  do  so,  they  all 
joined  in  a cordial  adios;  hasta  otra  vista — Good-by;  until 
we  meet  again. 

“Le  pondre  d Ud  en  Cajamarca ” — “I  will  deliver  you  at 
Cajamarca,”  said  the  good-natured  prefect  of  Trujillo,  as 
he  bade  me  farewell,  “and  I have  no  doubt  that  the  prefect 
of  Cajamarca  will  see  to  your  safe  arrival  in  Chacha- 
poyas.” 

The  escort  he  had  selected  for  me — a gallant  young  lieu- 
tenant and  a private — were  promptly  on  hand  at  Casa 
Grande  at  the  hour  set  for  my  departure.  They  had 
brought  the  necessary  pack-mules  for  my  baggage,  and  the 
saddle  horses  that  they  themselves  were  to  ride.  My  own 
mount,  which  was  provided  by  my  ever-thoughtful  and  gen- 
erous host,  was  a splendid,  white  mule  that  was  used  to 
traveling  in  the  sierras,  and  exceptionally  sure-footed,  even 
along  the  steepest  and  most  dangerous  paths.  He  was, 
without  question,  one  of  the  most  intelligent  beasts  of  his 

295 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

much-abused  race  I ever  saw,  and  was  so  gentle  that  a 
child  could  have  ridden  him  in  safety.  Like  a favorite 
white  mule  I once  had  in  Egypt,  he  could  keep  up  a fine, 
easy,  ambling  gait  for  hours  at  a time,  and  seemed  to  be 
as  fresh  and  vigorous  at  the  end  of  the  day’s  journey  as 
he  was  in  the  morning  after  a good  night’s  rest.  I was 
indebted  to  my  kind  host  of  Casa  Grande  for  many  favors, 
but  for  none  more  than  for  the  splendid  animal  that  car- 
ried me  up  the  steep  declivities  of  the  western  Cordillera. 

Although  I took  leave  of  his  family  at  Casa  Grande,  Mr. 
G insisted  on  accompanying  me  to  Sausal,  a flourish- 

ing town  about  twenty  miles  distant,  but  which  is  likewise 
a part  of  the  company’s  property.  Here  his  administra- 
dor,  being  advised  of  our  arrival,  had  a delightful  luncheon 
prepared  for  us,  to  which  every  one  did  full  justice.  Thence 
we  went  together  to  Jaguey,  some  fifteen  miles  further, 
where  we  arrived  at  two  o’clock  in  the  afternoon.  Here  it 
was  that  the  noble,  whole-souled  Mr.  G bade  us  a God- 

speed, in  words  so  touching  that  I felt  I was  leaving  a life- 
long friend. 

I had  now  gotten  away  from  steamers  and  railroads. 
Before  me  was  a long  journey  of  nearly  a month  on  mule- 
back  over  a mountain  trail,  and  most  of  it  through  a very 
sparsely  settled  country.  But  this,  far  from  being  a de- 
terrent factor,  appealed  to  me  as  one  of  the  most  attractive 
features  of  the  trip.  I was  now  about  to  gratify  another 
wish  of  my  youth — a visit  to  Cajamarca  and  a ride  from  the 
Pacific  to  the  Amazon. 

“I  shall  have  to  rough  it  somewhat,”  I said  to  myself, 
“but  then  I shall  be  off  the  beaten  track,  and  shall  come  in 
contact  with  people  who  have  not  been  spoiled  by  strangers 
and  tourists.  I shall  be  able  to  commune  with  Nature  in 
her  most  beautiful  and  sublime  manifestations  and  shall 
have  an  opportunity  of  studying  such  marvels  of  sky  and 
mountain  and  forest  as  may  be  seen  in  but  few  regions  of 
the  globe.  With  such  surroundings,  I shall  not  miss  the 
comforts  and  luxuries  of  our  modern  metropolises.” 

296 


A Tambo  in  the  Andes. 


Scene  on  Our  Trail  in  the  Andes, 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  PIZARRO  AND  ORSUA 


Our  objective  point  for  the  day  was  Cascas,  a small  town 
about  ten  leagues  distant  in  the  foothills  of  the  Cordilleras. 
Our  path  was  through  an  arid  district  where  the  chief 
vegetation  was  composed  of  a few  scrubby  trees  here  and 
there,  and  a large  number  of  representatives  of  the  cactus 
family.  The  most  notable  among  these  were  certain  cerei, 
whose  immense  size  and  long,  candelabra-like  branches  re- 
mind one  of  the  giant  cactus  of  Arizona. 

After  traveling  about  four  hours,  we  found  ourselves  on 
an  elevated  projection  from  the  Cordillera,  when,  lo ! there 
suddenly  appeared  before  us  one  of  the  most  perfect  and 
brilliant  rainbows  I had  ever  witnessed.  “Esto  es  buen 
pronostico” — “This  is  a good  omen,”  said  the  young  officer 
of  Spanish  descent  who  was  with  me.  “You  are  going,” 
he  said,  addressing  me,  “to  have  a safe  and  pleasant  jour- 
ney. ’ ’ 

But  his  companion,  an  Indian  from  the  Lake  Titicaca 
basin,  was  not  so  enthusiastic  about  this  beautiful  appari- 
tion in  the  heavens.  What  was  the  reason?  Was  he  in- 
different to  such  a gorgeous  spectacle,  or  did  he  secretly 
entertain  the  view  of  his  Indian  ancestors  respecting  this, 
to  them,  mysterious  phenomenon. 

Among  the  Aymaras  the  rainbow — Kurmi — is  regarded 
as  a fetish — achachila — and  in  some  places  the  Indian 
mothers  forbid  their  children  to  gaze  at  it,  lest  it  kill  them. 
To  the  old  Quichua  Indians  the  rainbow — cuychu — was 
something  sacred — huaca — both  because  of  the  beauty  of 
its  colors  and  because  they  knew  that  this  beauty  was  de- 
rived from  the  sun.  For  this  reason,  Garcilaso  informs 
us,  the  Inca  kings  adopted  it  for  their  arms  and  for  their 
device.  But,  like  the  Aymaras,  the  Children  of  the  Sun 
had  a certain  dread  of  the  rainbow,  for,  “owing  to  the 
veneration  they  felt  for  it  when  they  saw  it  in  the  air,  they 
shut  their  mouths,  and  put  their  hands  over  them,  for  they 
said  if  they  exposed  their  teeth  they  would  loosen  and 
decay.”  1 

1 Garcilaso,  Commentaries  Reales,  Cap.  XXI. 

297 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Padre  Cobo  tells  us  that  the  subjects  of  the  Incas  con- 
sidered it  an  evil  omen — presaging  death  or  some  dire 
calamity — when  they  saw  the  beautiful  but  mysterious 
cuychu  whose  appearance  always  inspired  them  with  awe. 
“They  revered  it  so  highly  that  they  dared  not  look  at  it, 
or  if  they  did,  they  would  not  presume  to  point  the  finger 
at  it,  believing  they  would  die,  if  they  should  do  so.  The 
place  where  the  bow  appeared  to  touch  the  earth  they  hold 
to  be  something  frightful,  believing  that  there  was  there 
some  Jmaca,  or  other  thing  to  be  feared  or  reverenced.”  1 

Did  my  Indian  companion  inherit  any  of  these  beliefs 
from  his  ancestors  in  Collasuyu?  I suspect  that  he  did, 
but,  although  he  was  usually  quite  talkative,  he  chose  to 
be  non-communicative  on  this  particular  subject.  Probably 
he  thought  it  unworthy  of  a soldier  to  acknowledge  fear 
of  what  is  still,  as  in  the  days  of  the  Incas,  an  object  of 
superstitious  dread  among  many  of  his  race. 

A short  distance  from  where  we  first  saw  the  rainbow, 
we  faced  towards  the  west  to  take  a last  view  of  the  Pacific. 
The  day  following  it  would  be  out  of  sight,  and  we  should 
not  again  have  an  opportunity  of  admiring  its  vast  and 
tranquil  expanse. 

Never  shall  I forget  the  gorgeous  picture  that  burst 
upon  my  ravished  vision  at  that  moment.  If  “heaven’s 
ethereal  bow,”  spanning  with  its  bright  arch  the  glittering 
peaks  of  the  Cordilleras  had  before  been  a source  of  in- 
effable delight,  the  glory  of  the  setting  sun,  now  slowly 
sinking  beneath  the  ocean  wave,  that  trembled  as  it  glowed, 
was  like  a vision  of  the  enraptured  Dante  as  he  journeyed 
through  Paradise. 

I had  witnessed  many  wonderful  sunsets  in  various  parts 
of  the  world,  but  never  one  that  was  comparable  to  this 
in  color  and  effulgence.  I recalled  one  seen  from  a moun- 
tain in  Greece  and  another  viewed  from  a hill  in  Judea, 
that,  at  the  time,  I thought  could  not  be  rivaled.  The  sun- 

i Historia  del  Nuevo  Hundo,  Lib.  XIII,  Cap.  XXXVIII,  publicada  por 
primera  vez  por  D.  Jimenez  de  la  Espada,  Sevilla,  1893. 

298 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  PIZARRO  AND  ORSUA 


set  enjoyed  shortly  after  crossing  the  equator  and  described 
in  a preceding  chapter,  I considered,  while  gazing  at  it, 
as  absolutely  matchless.  But  my  last  view  of  the  great 
South  Sea  will  always  be  associated  in  my  mind  with  the 
most  magnificent  exhibition  of  light  and  cloud  effects  that 
it  seems  possible  to  conceive — an  experience  that  may  not 
befall  even  the  most  fortunate  more  than  once  in  a lifetime. 

The  clouds  in  question  were  those  of  the  highest  region 
of  cloudland, — the  region  of  the  cirrus,  “that  exclusively 
characterized  by  white,  filmy,  multitudinous  and  quiet 
clouds  arranged  in  bars,  or  streaks  or  flakes.” 

The  effects  produced  on  the  clouds  of  the  lower  regions 
of  the  atmosphere  are  often  marvelous.  “But  it  is  a 
widely  different  thing  when  Nature  herself  takes  a color  fit, 
and  does  something  extraordinary,  something  really  to 
exhibit  her  power.  She  has  a thousand  ways  and  means 
of  rising  above  herself,  but  incomparably  the  noblest  mani- 
festations of  her  capability  of  color  are  in  the  sunsets  in  the 
high  clouds.  I speak  especially  of  the  moment  before  the 
sun  sinks,  when  his  light  turns  pure  rose-color,  and  when 
the  light  falls  upon  a zenith  covered  with  countless  cloud- 
forms  of  inconceivable  delicacy,  threads  and  flakes  of  vapor, 
which  would  in  common  daylight  be  pure  snow-white,  and 
which  give,  therefore,  fair  field  to  the  tone  of  light.  There 
is  then  no  limit  to  the  multitude,  and  no  check  to  the  in- 
tensity of  the  hues  assumed.  The  whole  sky  from  the 
zenith  to  the  horizon  becomes  one  molten,  mantling  sea  of 
color  and  fire ; every  black  bar  turns  into  massy  gold,  every 
ripple  and  wave  into  unsullied,  shadowless  crimson,  and 
purple,  and  scarlet,  and  colors  for  which  there  are  no 
words  in  language  and  no  ideas  in  the  mind, — things  which 
can  only  be  conceived  while  they  are  visible, — the  intense 
hollow  blue  of  the  upper  sky  melting  through  it  all, — show- 
ing here  deep,  and  pure,  and  lightless ; there,  modulated  by 
the  filmy,  formless  body  of  the  transparent  vapor,  till  it  is 
lost  imperceptibly  in  its  crimson  and  gold.”  1 

i Ruskin,  Modern  Painters,  Part  II,  Sec.  II,  Chap.  II. 

299 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

When  one  recalls  the  notions  formerly  entertained  by 
the  subjects  of  the  Incas  regarding  the  beneficent  action 
and  potent  influence  of  the  sun,  and  recollects  the  militant 
character  of  their  victorious  conquerors,  can  one,  in  pres- 
ence of  such  a sunset  as  that  just  described,  be  surprised 
that  the  Children  of  the  Sun  should  address  to  their  father 
petitions  like  the  following? 

‘ ‘ 0 Sun ! Thou  who  art  in  peace  and  safety,  shine  upon 
us,  keep  us  from  sickness,  and  keep  us  in  health  and 
safety. 

“0  Sun!  Thou  who  hast  said,  let  there  he  Cuzcos  and 
Tampus,  grant  that  these  thy  children  may  conquer  all 
other  people.  We  beseech  thee  that  thy  children,  the  Incas, 
may  be  conquerors  always,  for  this  thou  hast  created 
them.  ’ ’ 

We  turned  reluctantly  from  the  contemplation  of  this 
magnificent  spectacle  and  pressed  onwards  towards  Cascas, 
which  was  still  several  leagues  distant.  There  was  no 
moon  to  illumine  our  path  and  the  prospect  of  traveling 
along  a narrow  trail  near  deep  ravines,  and  on  steep  moun- 
tain sides,  when  we  had  to  trust  solely  to  the  instinct  of  our 
mules  to  preserve  us  from  danger  and  accident,  was  far 
from  reassuring. 

We  had  been  told  by  our  arriero  that  we  should  arrive 
at  Cascas  by  six  o ’clock,  but  it  was  now  past  that  time  and 
the  shades  of  night  were  falling  fast  and  thick.  We  then 
realized  as  we  had  been  so  often  forced  to  realize  in  the 
Cordilleras  of  Colombia,  that  one  can  rarely  trust  one’s 
arriero  when  there  is  question  of  time  or  distance.  His 
ideas  on  both  these  subjects  are  usually  as  vague  as  they 
are  untrustworthy.  For  if  one  inquire  the  distance  to  a 
certain  place,  no  two  arrieros  will  give  the  same  answer. 
One  reason  for  this  is  doubtless  because  they  have  no  fixed 
standard  of  measurement. 

In  Peru,  as  in  other  Spanish-American  countries,  the  unit 
of  distance  for  the  traveler  is  the  legua — league.  But  the 
league,  as  used  in  Andean  lands,  is  a most  elastic  term,  and 

300 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  PIZARRO  AND  ORSUA 


varies  greatly  according  to  places  and  circumstances.  In 
Peru  it  varies  from  four  thousand  meters  to  the  geographic 
league,  which  is  more  than  a third  longer.  On  a level  plain 
it  is  usually  estimated  at  five  kilometers,  while  in  the  sier- 
ras it  is  but  four  kilometers.  Indeed,  as  ordinarily 
reckoned,  the  league  is  rather  a measure  of  time  than  of 
distance. 

Thus  in  la  Costa — the  coast-land — a good  horse  is  sup- 
posed to  average  two  leagues  of  five  kilometers  each,  per 
hour.  This  is  the  equivalent  of  six  miles.  In  the  interior 
of  the  country  the  same  animal  will  not  make  more  than 
two  leagues  of  four  kilometers  each.  A mule  at  the  or- 
dinary pace — paso  llano  de  camino — requires  an  hour  and 
a half  to  traverse  this  distance.  Ordinarily,  however,  the 
traveler  who  is  accompanied  by  pack-mules  cannot  expect 
to  cover  more  than  one  league  an  hour,  which  means  two 
and  a half  miles  where  the  country  is  broken  and  three 
miles  where  it  is  level.  We  always  considered  ourselves 
fortunate  if  we  could  average  three  miles  an  hour.  It  was 
sometimes  considerably  more,  but  frequently  much  less. 

Peruvians  ordinarily  divide  their  country  into  three  dis- 
tinct regions,  la  Costa,  la  Sierra  and  la  Montana.  La 
Costa  embraces  a strip  of  territory  extending  from  the 
Pacific  to  a line  on  the  western  versant  of  the  Maratime 
Cordillera,  fifteen  hundred  meters  above  sea  level.  The 
Sierra  comprises  the  region  between  fifteen  hundred  and 
thirty-five  hundred  meters  in  altitude.  It  corresponds  to 
the  tierras  templadas — temperate  lands — of  Colombia  and 
Mexico.  Here  the  white  race  finds  a congenial  home  and 
the  vegetation  of  our  northern  clime  has  a propitious 
habitat.  Montana  in  Spanish  signifies  “mountain,”  but  in 
Peru  and  Colombia,  by  a strange  misuse  of  language,  it 
means  “forest,”  and  is  used  to  designate  all  the  little- 
lmown  country  from  the  eastern  versant  of  the  Andes  to 
the  boundaries  of  Bolivia  and  Ecuador  and  to  the  selvas 
of  Brazil.  The  region  above  forty-five  hundred  meters  is 
known  as  the  puna  and  corresponds  to  the  paramo  of 

301 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Colombia.  It  is  the  narrow  zone  of  winds  and  snow-storms, 
where  the  Indian  shepherd  watches  his  hardy  flocks  and 
where  the  traveler  must  often  struggle  to  avoid  succumbing 
to  the  arctic  blasts  that  frequently  prevail  in  these  in- 
hospitable regions.  In  addition  to  these  three  zones  the 
general  appellation  of  Cordillera — which,  however,  has  no 
connection  with  the  special  term  “Cordillera”  employed 
to  designate  the  western  chain  of  the  Peruvian  mountains 
— is  often  applied  to  the  snow-capped  peaks  and  Alpine 
heights  which  are  never  scaled  except  by  some  daring  ex- 
plorer or  professional  mountain  climber. 

Writing  of  the  varied  territory  of  Peru,  Raimondi,  the 
distinguished  Italian  geographer  and  naturalist,  who  has 
contributed  so  much  to  our  knowledge  of  this  interesting 
republic,  declares  that,  “it  possesses,  in  the  sandy  wastes 
of  the  Costa,  the  arid  deserts  of  Africa ; in  the  broad  Punas, 
the  monotonous  steppes  of  Asia ; in  the  elevated  summits  of 
the  Cordillera,  the  frigid  regions  of  the  poles,  and  in  the 
dense  forests  of  the  Montana  the  active  and  luxuriant  vege- 
tation of  the  tropics.”  1 

It  was  nearly  ten  o’clock  at  night  when  we  reached  Cas- 
cas,  tired,  hungry  and  thirsty.  The  greater  part  of  our 
journey  had  been  through  an  uninhabited  desert  and  we 
were  not  only  unable  to  secure  food  of  any  kind,  but  unable 
to  obtain  even  a drink  of  water.  At  one  place  we  passed 
a small  hut,  where  an  Indian  woman  had  some  fresh  chiclia 
for  sale,  but,  although  my  companions  were  glad  to  find 
here  their  favorite  beverage,  I must  confess  that  I should 
much  have  preferred  a draught  of  pure  water. 

We  went  directly  to  the  governor’s  house,  who  cordially 
invited  us  to  be  his  guests  for  the  night.  After  doing  full 
justice  to  a frugal  repast  consisting  of  boiled  eggs,  bread 
and  cheese  and  some  good  coffee,  we  lost  no  time  in  seeking 
much  needed  repose. 

Early  the  next  morning  we  were  on  our  way  to  Contu- 
maza.  The  day’s  experiences,  and 'the  scenery  along  the 

i Op.  cit.,  Tom.  I,  p.  6. 


302 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  PIZARRO  AND  ORSUA 


route,  were  little  more  than  a repetition  of  those  of  the 
preceding  afternoon.  With  the  exception  of  a few  wooded 
valleys,  there  was  the  same  barren  waste,  relieved  by  an 
occasional  agave  or  cactus,  the  same  absence  of  human 
habitations  and  industrial  activity.  Now  and  then,  it  is 
true,  we  met  a solitary  wanderer  astride  a patient  mule 
bound  for  some  village  in  the  dim  distance,  or  a silent  In- 
dian going  to  or  from  the  nearest  market  town.  Otherwise 
the  events  of  the  day  could  be  expressed  in  two  phrases, 
frequently  in  the  mouth  of  our  arriero — cuesta  arriba  and 
cuesta  abajo — up  and  down  the  ever-rising  spurs  of  the 
Cordillera. 

While  traversing  these  treeless  areas,  especially  along  the 
water  courses,  where  extensive  forests  at  one  time  existed, 
and  where  forestry  is  still  possible,  we  were  reminded  of 
the  wise  provisions  made  by  the  Incas  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  their  moyas — woodlands — and  which  commanded, 
shortly  after  the  conquest,  the  unqualified  admiration  of 
such  a keen  observer  and  accomplished  statesman  as  Polo 
de  Ondegardo.  In  his  report  on  the  part  of  the  adminis- 
tration of  the  Incas,  which  concerns  forest  conservancy, 
he  declares  that  “the  greatest  benefit  that  his  Majesty  could 
confer  on  the  Indians,  next  to  their  conversion,  would  be 
to  confirm  the  same  order  established  by  the  Incas ; for  to 
frame  new  laws  would  be  an  infinite  labor.”  1 This  obser- 
vation is  as  true  to-day  as  when  it  was  first  penned  by  the 
distinguished  licentiate  three  and  a half  centuries  ago. 

So  effectually  concealed  at  the  bottom  of  a deep  gorge 
that  one  cannot  see  it  until  one  is  actually  standing  on  the 
brink  of  the  overhanging  precipice,  lies  the  picturesque 
little  town  of  Contumaza,  the  capital  of  a sub-prefecture. 
Here  we  arrived  a few  hours  before  sunset,  and  were  made 
welcome  by  the  hospitable  sub-prefect — a man  under  thirty 
years  of  age — and  his  estimable  spouse,  who  had  already 

i AT arratives  of  the  Rites  and  Laws  of  the  Incas,  p.  165,  translated  from 
the  original  Spanish  manuscripts  by  C.  R.  Markham,  and  printed  for  the 
Hakluyt  Society,  London,  1873. 


303 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


presented  her  lord  with  ten  bright  and  healthy  children. 

These  good  people,  it  was  manifest,  were  not  believers 
in  race  suicide,  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  the  Peruvians 
generally.  Everywhere  one  will  see  large  families  among 
the  poor  as  well  as  among  the  rich.  How  the  poorer  classes 
manage  to  eke  out  an  existence  with  so  many  depending 
on  them  was  often  a matter  of  surprise  to  me.  But  during 
all  my  journey ings  in  Peru,  I found  but  few  beggars  and, 
although  there  were  often  evidences  of  extreme  poverty,  I 
found  far  less  suffering  among  the  indigent  than  I have  fre- 
quently witnessed  in  the  crowded  cities  of  Europe. 

Contrasting  the  women  of  Peru  with  his  own  country- 
women, the  English  traveler,  Enoch,  expressed  himself  as 
follows:  “The  deeply  religious  practices  of  the  women  of 
Spanish- America  inculcate  a strong  sense  of  refinement; 
vulgar  women,  such  as  the  Anglo-Saxon  type  produces,  are 
unknown  in  Spanish- America.  The  upper  class  is  refined 
and  proud ; the  lower,  modest  and  respectful.  Also  the  con- 
dition known  as  ‘race  suicide’  obtains  no  foothold  in  these 
communities,  nor  is  it  likely  to  do  so  whilst  the  women  re- 
main influenced  by  this  (the  Catholic)  religion.”  1 

Our  short  stay  in  Contumaza,  although  brief,  was,  thanks 
to  the  exceeding  kindness  of  the  sub-prefect  and  his 
estimable  family,  in  every  way  most  delightful.  As  they 
bade  me  farewell  they  all  asked  me  to  make  their  house  my 

i The  Andes  and  the  Amazon,  p.  157,  London,  1908.  Similar  statements 
regarding  the  Peruvian  women  are  made  by  Hutchinson  and  Stevenson,  both 
of  whom  spent  many  years  in  South  America  and  had  an  opportunity  of 
becoming  acquainted  with  the  greater  part  of  the  continent.  The  latter,  in 
his  work,  A Historical  and  Descriptive  Narrative  of  Twenty  Years’  Residence 
in  South  America,  Vol.  I,  p.  390,  does  not  hesitate  to  assert  that  “Chastity 
is  more  common  and  infidelity  more  uncommon  among  the  Peruvians  than 
in  most  countries  of  the  Old  World.” 

The  opinions  of  Stevenson  and  Hutchinson,  who  occupied  high  official  posi- 
tions in  various  parts  of  Spanish- America,  and  were,  therefore,  able  to  secure 
exact  information  respecting  the  moral  condition  of  the  people  with  whom 
they  lived  so  many  years,  should  silence  the  slanderous  reports  put  in  circu- 
lation long  ago,  and  still  repeated,  by  such  writers  as  Baxley  and  Dabadie  as 
a result  of  their  hasty  visits  to  the  countries  which  they  so  grossly  misrepre- 
sent. 


304 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  PIZARRO  AND  ORSUA 


home  the  next  time  I should  visit  their  town.  “ Aqui,”  said 
the  father,  “estd  su  casa  con  toda  franqueza.” 

When  we  left  Contumaza,  our  arriero  assured  us  that 
we  should  reach  the  hacienda  of  Namas — -where  we  pur- 
posed passing  the  night — by  sunset,  at  latest.  But,  al- 
though we  made  as  good  speed  as  the  mountain  trail  would 
permit,  we  soon  discovered  that  the  distance  to  this  point 
had  been  greatly  underestimated.  We  did  not  get  our 
desayuno — breakfast — until  long  after  midday,  but  when 
we  did  get  it  we  felt  more  than  repaid  for  the  delay.  It 
was  at  a small  hacienda,  called  Chanta,  where  dwelt  a 
kindly  half-caste  family.  Immediately  after  our  arrival, 
the  mistress  of  the  house  requested  her  eldest  son  to  kill 
a brace  of  spring  chickens  and  a fat  lamb  for  us. 
These  were  no  sooner  brought  in  than  the  mother  and 
daughters  proceeded  to  the  preparation  of  our  repast. 
While  they  were  thus  occupied,  I discovered  that  the  father 
of  the  family  was  prostrate  with  malaria,  and  through  lack 
of  the  necessary  medicines,  had  been  quite  ill  for  several 
weeks.  I then  shared  with  him  the  contents  of  my  medi- 
cine case,  and  was  delighted  to  find  that  I had  just  the 
remedies  that  his  malady  required. 

Considering  the  circumstances,  our  desayuno  was  quite 
a sumptuous  affair,  and  I could  not  but  admire  the  skill  of 
the  cooks  in  serving  us  so  delightful  a repast  in  so  short 
a time  with  culinary  utensils  so  simple  as  those  at  their 
command.  I cannot,  however,  say  that  I was  surprised, 
for  I frequently  on  the  Orinoco  and  the  Meta  had  had 
ocular  demonstration  of  what  the  Indian  or  half-caste 
housewife  is  capable  of  accomplishing  on  short  notice,  with 
the  most  primitive  appliances  and  with  nothing  but  three 
stones  in  lieu  of  a stove. 

When  I came  to  pay  the  mother  for  our  breakfast,  she 
would  not  accept  a penny.  I insisted,  but  still  she  would 
take  nothing.  “Why  not?”  I asked.  “I  prefer  to  pay  you 
for  your  hospitality.”  “You  have  already  more  than  paid 
me,”  she  said.  “You  have  given  my  poor  sick  husband 

305 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


the  medicine  he  so  much  needed,  and  that  is  far  more  to  us 
than  money.  “Dios  guarde  dUdy  feliz  viaje” — “May  God 
protect  you  and  may  you  have  a happy  journey.”  And 
thus,  for  a trifling  act  of  kindness,  we  had  the  gratitude  of 
these  humble  folk  in  the  desert  and  the  blessing  of  the 
mother  to  cheer  us  on  the  long  journey  still  before  us. 

After  a brisk  ride  of  a couple  of  hours  we  came  in  sight 
of  Namas,  gleaming  through  such  clear  atmosphere  that  it 
seemed  not  more  than  a gunshot  from  where  we  stood. 
But  it  was  on  the  flank  of  a mountain  on  the  eastern  side 
of  a deep  valley  or  rather  a profound  canon — at  the  bottom 
of  which  nestled  the  quaint  and  tranquil  little  town  of 
Magdalena. 

“Mucha  bajada ” — “a  steep  descent,”  ejaculated  our 
arriero,  as  we  proceeded  to  descend  the  narrow,  zigzag 
trail  that  led  down  the  precipitous  mountain  side.  He  was 
right.  There  was  a drop  of  more  than  three  thousand  feet 
from  the  spot  where  we  then  were  to  the  impetuous  waters 
of  the  Rio  Magdalena,  that  coursed  along  the  dark,  abysmal 
depths  below.  So  deep  is  this  rocky  gorge  that  it  reminds 
one  forcibly  of  the  Grand  Canon  of  the  Colorado,  and  so 
early  in  the  day  does  the  sun  disappear  from  the  view  of 
the  inhabitants  of  the  Magdalena  valley  that  the  western 
declivity  of  the  mountain  is  here  known  by  the  expressive 
epithet,  Quitasol — the  sun-obscurer. 

The  descent  of  the  bajada  was  long  and  tedious  and  ex- 
tremely trying  to  both  mount  and  rider.  For,  paradoxical 
as  it  may  appear  at  first  sight  to  one  who  is  not  familiar 
with  traveling  in  a broken  country,  the  descent  of  a moun- 
tain, especially  if  it  be  very  precipitous,  is  much  more 
arduous  to  beast  and  rider  than  the  ascent. 

As  we  slowly  wended  our  way  down  the  steep,  rugged 
path  in  the  rapidly-gathering  gloom,  I recalled  Virgil’s 
words, 

“Facilis  descensus  Avemi, 

Sed  revoeare  gradum  superasque  evadere  ad  auras 
Hoc  opus,  hie  labor  est,  ’ ’ 


306 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  PIZARRO  AND  ORSUA 

and  compared  them  with  a sentence  of  Poe’s  in  The  Pur- 
loined Letter.  “It  is  all  very  well,”  writes  the  author  of 
The  Raven , “to  talk  about  the  facilis  descensus  Averni,  but 
in  all  kinds  of  climbing,  as  Catalani  said  of  singing,  it  is 
far  more  easy  to  get  up  than  to  get  down.”  This  state- 
ment is  particularly  true  of  mountain  climbing,  when 
one  is  on  the  back  of  a struggling  horse  or  half-exhausted 
mule. 

Before  we  reached  the  rickety  bridge  that  crosses  the 
Rio  Magdalena  we  were  enveloped  in  Cimmerian  darkness. 
We  could  not  even  see  our  mule’s  ears,  much  less  the  path 
that  was  to  take  us  to  our  destination.  Then  again,  as  it 
had  happened  so  often  before,  while  traveling  in  the  Cor- 
dilleras, I was  obliged  to  trust  myself  to  the  peculiar  in- 
stinct of  my  faithful  animal,  who  seemed  to  keep  to  the 
path  as  if  guided  by  a sixth  sense. 

After  crossing  the  river,  we  soon  arrived  at  the  town 
of  Magdalena,  but  instead  of  stopping  there,  as  my  arriero 
wished,  I determined  to  push  on  to  Namas,  as  had  been 
planned  on  our  departure  from  Contumaza.  The  under- 
taking, however,  was  far  greater  than  I had  anticipated. 
For  Namas,  that  early  in  the  afternoon  had  seemed  so  near 
to  us,  was  still  nearly  two  leagues  distant  and  high  upon 
the  mountain  side. 

Even  after  we  had  emerged  from  the  canon,  through 
which  the  river  flows,  the  impenetrable  darkness  still  per- 
sisted. The  sky  was  now  so  obscured  by  clouds  that  not  a 
single  star  was  visible.  But  I had  confidence  in  my  mule 
and  was  satisfied  that  he  would  keep  to  the  path.  He  was 
sure-footed  and  never  stumbled  and  why  should  I be 
anxious?  On  the  contrary,  why  should  I not  enjoy  this  part 
of  the  journey  as  well  as  any  other  part? 

And,  notwithstanding  apparent  drawbacks,  I did  enjoy  it, 
and  enjoyed  it  immensely.  I enjoyed  the  silence  and  the 
solitude,  the  balmy  atmosphere  and  the  delicious  zephyrs 
that  played  about  my  tired  frame.  And  I enjoyed  the 
thousands  of  fireflies  that  winked  and  darkled  on  every 

307 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


side  and  reminded  one  of  the  Elves  of  Light  that,  accord- 
ing to  the  Edda,  have  their  home  in  the  Alfheim. 

What  was  even  more  remarkable  about  these  luminous  in- 
sects than  their  vast  number,  was  the  intensity  of  the  light 
they  emitted  and  the  length  of  time  their  luminosity  per- 
sisted. They  seemed  even  brighter  than  the  West  Indian 
Cucujo — Pyrophorus  noctilucus — of  which  Peter  Martyr 
writes  that  they  shine  so  brightly,  that  when  the  inhab- 
itants “goo  any  iourneys  in  the  nyght,  the  beare  summe  of 
these  woormes  made  fast  abowt  theyre  fiete  and  heade,  in 
such  sorte  that  he  that  shoulde  see  them  a farre  and  igno- 
rant of  the  things,  woulde  bee  greatly  astonished  thereat.”  1 

Indeed,  if  we  are  to  credit  Bernal  Diaz,  it  was  these 
phosphorescent  beetles  that  materially  contributed  to  the 
victory  of  Cortes  over  Narvaez.  For  “these  wandering 
fires,  seen  in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  were  converted  by 
the  excited  imaginations  of  the  besieged,  into  an  army  with 
matchlocks.”  2 

This  is  not  a solitary  instance  of  the  Cocujo  as  a military 
auxiliary,  for  we  are  told  that  they  once  caused  the  retreat 
of  the  British  troops  as  they  were  preparing  to  attack  the 
Spaniards.  “When  Sir  John  Cavendish,  and  Sir  Robert 
Dudley,”  so  the  story  runs,  “ first  .landed  in  the  West  In- 
dies, and  saw  at  night  an  innumerable  number  of  lights 
moving  about,  they  fancied  that  the  Spaniards  were  ap- 
proaching with  an  overwhelming  force,  and  hastily  re- 
embarked before  their  imaginary  foe.” 

These  extraordinary  occurrences,  in  which  the  firefly 
played  such  a prominent  role,  are  even  more  remarkable 
than  the  salvation  of  Rome  by  cackling  geese,  or  the  defeat 
of  an  army  of  nine  thousand  men  under  Penn  and  Ven- 
ables, in  their  attack  on  Santo  Domingo,  in  1692,  by  a large 
number  of  clattering  land  crabs,  which  were  mistaken  by 

1 Eden,  The  First  Three  English  Books  on  America,  p.  241,  edited  by  Ed- 
ward Arber,  London,  1895. 

2 Verdadera  Historia  de  los  Sucesos  de  la  Conquista  de  la  Nueva  Espa/ha, 
Cap.  CXXII. 


308 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  PIZARRO  AND  ORSUA 


the  English  for  advancing  Spanish  lancers,  “whose  galling 
onset  they  had  experienced  the  day  before.” 

While  admiring  the  coruscations  of  these  strange  insects, 
which  hold  within  their  frail  organisms  the  secret  which 
men  of  science  have  so  long  essayed  to  discover — the  pro- 
duction of  light  with  no  appreciable  loss  of  energy — and 
musing  on  the  great  changes  in  the  world’s  events,  that  are 
sometimes  occasioned  by  the  most  insignificant  agents,  I 
was  slowly  but  surely  approaching  the  goal  of  the  day’s 
journeying.  At  the  long  last,  after  being  twelve  hours  in 
the  saddle,  we  sighted  a faint  light  some  distance  ahead 
of  us,  which  we  soon  recognized  was  not  from  a firefly 
but  from  a lamp  or  a candle  in  our  hotelito — little  hotel — 
in  Namas. 

I was  too  exhausted  to  partake  of  a dinner  that  the  kindly 
patron  proceeded  forthwith  to  prepare  for  us.  Leaving 
my  valiant  mule  to  the  arriero,  with  instructions  to  give 
him  an  extra  supply  of  alfalfa,  I took  a cup  of  chocolate 
and  a piece  of  bread,  and  then  threw  myself  on  a tidy  little 
cot  in  a cozy  room  and  was  soon  in  the  land  of  dreams. 

When  I awoke  the  following  morning,  shortly  before  sun- 
rise, I felt  quite  refreshed,  and  was  soon  ready  to  continue 
my  journey.  Just  then  my  young  lieutenant  approached 
me  with  a salute  to  apologize  for  something  which  I did  not 
know  had  occurred.  He  had  dropped  behind  me  on  the 
road  the  night  before,  and  as  he  had  not  arrived  before 
I retired  to  rest,  I took  it  for  granted  that  he  would  reach 
the  hotel  shortly  after  I did.  But  such  was  not  the  case, 
as  I then  learned  with  great  surprise. 

“Pardon,  Senor,  for  not  reporting  here  last  night.  But 
it  was  simply  impossible  for  me  to  do  so.  My  mule  gave 
out  when  we  reached  Magdalena,  and  positively  refused 
to  carry  me  a step  further.  And  I was  so  rendido — worn 
out — that  I was  quite  unable  to  walk  the  long  distance  up 
the  mountain  to  Namas.  For  this  reason  I was  forced  to 
spend  the  night  in  Magdalena,  whence  I have  just  come. 
Both  my  mule  and  I still  feel  the  effects  of  yesterday’s  long 

309 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


ride,  but  I think  I feel  it  more  than  the  mule.  It  was  a 
terrific  journey  and  I did  not  understand  how  you,  with 
your  delicate  physique,  were  able  to  endure  such  an  arduous 
journey.” 

I was  then  confirmed  in  a belief  that  my  previous 
experience  in  the  Cordillera  had  taught  me — viz. : that  the 
race  is  not  always  to  the  physically  strong,  nor  to  the  pos- 
sessors of  health  and  youth.  I was  nearly  old  enough 
to  be  the  young  officer’s  grandfather  and  was  far  from 
having  either  his  health  or  his  strength.  And  yet  he  had 
less  endurance  than  I had.  The  reason  of  this,  I am  in- 
clined to  believe,  from  many  observations  subsequently 
made,  was  that  I ate  less  food  than  my  companions  and  ate 
only  what  I was  able  to  digest,  while  some  of  them,  I have 
reason  to  believe,  overloaded  their  stomachs  and  suffered 
the  consequences,  without  knowing  the  cause.  Overeating 
is  always  bad,  but  especially  so  in  high  altitudes,  and  par- 
ticularly when  one  is  unaccustomed  to  them. 

We  had  not  proceeded  far  on  our  way,  after  leaving 
Namas,  when  our  arriero  sidled  up  to  me  and  said,  “ Mucha 
cuesta — mucha — mucha,”  by  which  laconic  expression  he 
wished  me  to  understand  that  we  had  before  us  a long  and 
a very  steep  climb.  We  did  not  have  to  wait  long  before 
verifying  his  statement.  So  steep,  indeed,  was  our  path  at 
times  that  our  mules  had  to  stop  frequently  for  a brief  rest. 
Besides,  as  we  were  rapidly  approaching  the  cumbre — 
crest  of  the  Cordillera — they  began  to  feel  the  effects  of  the 
rarer  atmosphere,  and  progress  was  proportionally  slower. 

In  marked  contrast  with  the  arid  and  desolate  country 
through  which  we  had  passed  since  our  departure  from  the 
Chicama  valley  were  the  fertile  and  verdant  lands  which 
now  burst  upon  our  view.  Flocks  and  herds  were  quite 
numerous  and  comfortable  human  habitations,  occupied 
mostly  by  Indians  and  mestizos,  were  frequently  passed. 

On  approaching  one  of  these  dwellings,  our  attention  was 
suddenly  arrested  by  music  and  singing.  Turning  towards 
the  direction  whence  the  sounds  proceeded,  we  saw  a large 

310 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  PIZARRO  AND  ORSUA 

number  of  men  and  women,  young  and  old,  dancing  the 
casua  and  singing  a harvest  song  similar  to  those  which 
we  had  heard  in  the  valley  of  Cuzco.  Horses  and  mules, 
on  a specially  prepared  area,  were  tramping  the  wheat  to 
separate  the  grain  from  the  straw,  and  the  dancers  formed 
a ring  around  the  musicians  and  singers.  After  each  verse 
of  the  song,  which  was  sung  by  a singer  in  the  center  of  the 
circle,  the  dancers  repeated  the  refrain  and  with  apparently 
increasing  emphasis  and  delight.  Even  the  dogs — and 
there  were  many  of  them — seemed  to  enjoy  the  celebration, 
for  they  were  running  and  jumping,  harking  and  wagging 
their  tails  and  mingling  with  the  merrymakers,  as  if  their 
manifestations  of  delight  were  an  essential  part  of  the 
trilla — harvest-festivities.  They  certainly  contributed  not 
a little  to  the  interest  of  the  scene,  and  enhanced  at  the  same 
time  the  peculiar  local  color  of  the  picture. 

Nearer  the  curnbre,  on  a broad  plateau,  covered  by  large 
flocks  of  sheep  and  herds  of  cattle,  were  two  rock  forma- 
tions that  were  so  peculiar  that  I took  several  photographs 
of  them.  They  are  known  as  Las  Monjas — the  Nuns — and 
los  Frailejones — the  Big  Monks — and  are  immense,  curi- 
ously-fashioned masses  of  trachyte  and  porphyry  that 
seemed  to  have  been  ejected  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth, 
indicating,  in  the  most  striking  manner,  the  action,  in  times 
gone  by,  of  truly  titanic  forces  in  this  part  of  the  Cor- 
dilleras. 

It  was  on  this  plateau  that  Pizarro  and  his  gallant  band 
camped  the  night  before  their  arrival  at  Cajamarca.  And 
so  great  was  the  cold  in  this  place,  according  to  Xeres,  the 
secretary  of  the  conqueror,  that  the  horses  of  the  cavalry 
could  scarcely  move.  Even  lower  down  on  the  mountain 
side,  the  temperature,  he  assures  us,  was  so  low  that  some 
of  the  horses  were  frost-bitten. 

These  experiences  interested  me  greatly,  as  they  were 
in  such  marked  contrast  with  my  own,  for  nowhere  on  my 
way  from  the  coast  to  the  cumbre  had  I found  even  chill 
enough  in  the  atmosphere  to  cause  me  to  change  the  light 

311 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

clothing  that  I had  worn  in  the  warm  lowlands.  Neverthe- 
less, when  I crossed  this  part  of  the  western  Cordillera,  it 
should  have  been  colder  than  when  the  Spaniards  passed 
this  way,  which  was  at  the  end  of  the  winter  season,  whereas 
my  visit  was  more  than  a month  earlier. 

I know  that  certain  writers  have  harrowing  stories  to 
narrate  regarding  the  rigors  of  the  climate  about  Caja- 
marca.  Wiener,  for  instance,  tells  us  that  the  only  way 
he  could  make  his  mules,  which  were  unaccustomed  to  snow, 
cross  the  crest  of  the  mountains  in  these  parts,  was  to  at- 
tach lassos  to  their  noses  and  have  other  mules,  familiar 
with  these  snowy  heights,  drag  them  across  the  arctic  belt 
that  here  occasioned  them  such  dismay.  This  author,  in 
the  same  chapter,  asks  his  readers  to  believe  that  the  water- 
courses of  the  Andes,  during  the  rainy  season,  rise  from 
twenty  to  thirty  meters  in  a few  hours ! 1 

When  he  wrote  this  about  the  snow-clad  summit  of  the 
mountain,  he  must  have  had  before  him  The  Travels  of 
Cieza  de  Leon,  who  declares  that  the  mountainous  region 
of  Peru,  extending  the  whole  length  of  the  Cordillera  of 
the  Andes,  is  so  intensely  cold  that  “its  summits  are  cov- 
ered with  eternal  snow,  so  that,  in  no  way,  can  people  live 
in  this  region,  owing  to  the  snow  and  the  cold,  and  also  be- 
cause there  are  no  provisions,  all  things  being  destroyed 
by  the  snow  and  the  wind,  which  never  ceases  to  blow.  ’ ’ 2 
The  fact  is  that  the  crest  of  the  Cordillera  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Cajamarca  is  nearly  a mile  below  the  line  of  per- 
petual snow,  and  the  vegetation  is  of  such  a character  as 
to  indicate  that  snow  rarely,  if  ever,  falls.  All  statements 
to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  the  climate  of  Cajamarca 
is  quite  mild  and  temperate,  reminding  one  somewhat  of 
that  of  Bogota  or  Quito,  where  the  inhabitants  claim  an 
eternal  spring.  Indeed,  Humboldt  does  not  hesitate  to 
declare  that  the  climate  of  Cajamarca  “is  much  more  mild 
and  agreeable  than  that  of  either  of  these  cities.” 

Xeres  informs  us  that  the  Governor,  as  he  calls  Pizarro, 

i Op.  cit.,  pp.  117,  121.  2 Part  I,  Cap.  XXXVI. 

312 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  PIZARRO  AND  ORSUA 


“arrived  at  this  town  of  Caxamalca1  on  Friday,  the  15th  of 
November,  1532,  at  the  hour  of  Vespers.”2  With  his  ar- 
rival was  sounded  the  knell  of  the  great  Inca  empire,  and 
the  day  following  Atahualpa  was  his  prisoner.  With  a 
handful  of  men — less  than  two  hundred — the  dauntless  con- 
quistador had,  in  a few  hours,  overcome  and  dispersed  an 
army  of  from  thirty  to  fifty  thousand  trained  Inca  veterans, 
and  the  untutored  swineherd  of  Estremadura  was  the  un- 
crowned King  of  Peru. 

It  was  just  three  hundred  and  seventy  years  later,  to  the 
very  hour,  that,  following  in  the  footsteps  of  the  conquista- 
dores,  I entered  the  city  so  famous  in  the  story  of  the  Chil- 
dren of  the  Sun.  And  so  preoccupied  was  I with  thoughts 
evoked  by  my  environment,  that  I was  almost  unconscious 
of  what  was  going  on  about  me,  and  arrived  at  Cajamarca 
with  little  more  than  a glimpse  of  the  splendors  of  valley 
and  mountain  which  make  of  this  old  Inca  metropolis  one 
of  the  most  charming  pictures  to  be  seen  anywhere  in  the 
entire  region  of  the  Cordilleras. 

1 Now  usually  written  Cajamarca.  Garcilaso  more  correctly  calls  it  Casa- 
marca,  derived  from  the  Quichua  words  Casa — frost — and  maica — pueblo,  or 
region.  The  name  would  seem  to  indicate  that  the  temperature  was  orig- 
inally lower  here  than  it  is  at  present. 

2 Op.  cit.,  p.  44. 


313 


CHAPTER  XVII 


THEATRE  OF  A GREAT  TRAGEDY 

Never  shall  I forget  the  impression  made  on  me  by  my 
first  view  of  Cajamarca.  We  were  slowly  descending  from 
the  elevated  cumbre,  which  constitutes  the  watershed  be- 
tween the  territory  which  drains  into  the  Pacific  and  the 
vast  area  that  is  tributary  to  the  upper  Amazon.  Sud- 
denly, on  rounding  a mass  of  porphyritic  rock,  which 
stood  before  us,  there  burst  upon  us,  like  a vision,  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  prospects  it  is  possible  for  the  imagina- 
tion to  conceive. 

Before  us  was  the  splendid  valley  of  Cajamarca,  about 
a hundred  square  miles  in  extent,  partitioned  off  into  well- 
kept  gardens  teeming  with  fruit  trees,  picturesque  hacien- 
das, whitened  with  flocks  and  verdant  pastures  of  luzerne, 
on  which  were  browsing  sleek  and  contented  kine.  In  the 
foreground  was  the  city  surrounded  by  avenues  of  willows 
and  quinuar  trees,  and  reflecting  from  the  tiled  roofs  of  its 
houses  and  churches  the  rays  of  the  sun  which  was  rapidly 
approaching  the  crest  of  the  lofty  Cordillera.  It  was,  in- 
deed, a beautiful  picture — such  as  one  may  see  only  in  the 
tablelands  of  the  Andes. 

What  unerring  judgment  the  Indians  of  South  America 
displayed  in  selecting  sites  for  their  towns  and  cities  ! And 
how  they  always  chose  the  most  beautiful  locations,  as  well 
as  those  that  were  most  valuable  from  a strategical  point 
of  view!  So  true  were  their  instincts  in  this  respect  that 
the  Spaniards  nearly  always  selected  the  same  places  for 
their  homes  as  had,  long  before  their  arrival,  been  the  fa- 
vored dwelling  places  of  the  aborigines.  This  is  particu- 
larly true  of  the  Andean  region — along  the  coast  as  well 

314 


THEATRE  OF  A GREAT  TRAGEDY 


as  in  the  elevated  plateau.  The  capitals  of  Venezuela,  Co- 
lombia, Ecuador,  Bolivia  and  Peru  were  founded  on  or 
near  the  sites  of  Indian  towns  and  villages.  The  same  may 
be  said  of  Cuzco,  Arequipa,  Trujillo  and  Cajamarca.  And 
who  will  say  that  the  Spaniards  were  not  wise  in  thus 
accepting  the  judgment  of  the  natives'?  They  certainly 
could  not  have  made  better  selections. 

As  I stood  on  the  top  of  La  Silla,  the  lofty  peak  that  tow- 
ers above  the  valley  of  Caracas,  I thought  the  location  of 
the  capital  of  Venezuela  was  absolutely  unrivaled.  When 
I subsequently  visited  Bogota  and  Quito,  I was  disposed 
to  award  to  these  charming  cities  the  palm  for  beauty  of 
site  and  picturesqueness  of  environment.  But,  when,  some 
months  later,  I was  able,  from  the  famous  heights  of  Sac- 
sahuaman,  to  survey  the  valley  of  Cuzco,  walled  in  by  snow- 
capped mountains,  and  to  contemplate  the  glories  of  the 
former  capital  of  the  Incas,  I felt  that  I then  had  before 
me  a picture  that  of  its  kind,  was  peerless,  unique.  And  so 
I think  to-day.  But  as  I now  recall  the  locations  and  sur- 
roundings of  the  various  cities  it  was  my  privilege  to  visit 
in  South  America,  I think  I am  safe  in  ranking  Cajamarca 
next  to  Cuzco ; for  the  former,  like  the  latter,  combines  in 
rarest  fashion  all  the  loveliness  of  fertile  valley  with  the 
sublimity  of  the  encircling  Cordilleras. 

But  attractive  as  is  the  city  itself,  its  inhabitants,  I hasten 
to  say  it,  are  more  attractive.  And  what  shall  I say  of  their 
hospitality?  I had  scarcely  alighted  from  my  mule  before 
the  hotel  where  I purposed  stopping,  when  I found  myself 
the  recipient  of  all  kinds  of  delicate  attentions  from  the  pre- 
fect and  others  to  whom  I had  letters  of  introduction. 

One  gentleman,  Mr.  L , the  leading  citizen  of  Caja- 

marca, insisted  on  my  remaining  with  him,  and  before  I 
had  time  to  thank  him  for  his  proffered  courtesy,  he  had 
ordered  my  baggage  to  be  transferred  to  his  residence. 
Here  I had  not  only  all  the  comforts  of  home,  but  also,  what 
I valued  much  more,  the  advantages  accruing  from  associ- 
ating with  cultured  and  refined  people. 

315 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


What  pleasant  recollections  I have  of  Mr.  L and  his 

charming  family!  How  kind  and  sympathetic  they  all 
were ; and  how  eager  they  were  to  have  me  enjoy  my  visit  to 
their  mountain  home ! Nothing  was  left  undone  that  could 
contribute  to  my  comfort  or  entertainment.  All  vied  with 
one  another  in  showing  their  guest  every  possible  considera- 
tion, and  in  contributing  towards  making  him  realize  that, 
although  just  arrived,  he  was  not  a stranger,  that  in  Peru, 
at  least,  one  could  be 

“Hospes  ubique  novus,  nulla  perigrinus  in  urbe.”1 

The  day  was  usually  spent  in  visiting  the  places  of  in- 
terest in  and  about  the  city,  while  the  evenings  were  devoted 
to  musical  and  other  entertainments  provided  by  my  ever- 
kind  and  thoughtful  hosts.  The  music  on  both  piano  and 
violin  was  of  an  exceptionally  high  order  of  merit.  But 
what  surprised  me  was  the  preference  manifested  by  all  the 
performers  for  German  music.  Wagner  and  Liszt  seemed 
to  be  the  favorites,  although  there  were  frequent  selections 
from  Mozart,  Haydn  and  Beethoven.  The  way  in  which 
some  of  the  sonatas  of  the  German  composers  were  exe- 
cuted surprised  me  beyond  measure;  for  I certainly  never 
expected  to  hear  such  exquisite  music  in  this  distant  corner 
of  the  Cordilleras. 

‘‘But  how,”  I asked  my  host,  “did  you  get  your  piano 
here,  having  no  rail-  or  wagon-roads  from  the  coast?” 

“It  was,”  he  replied,  “brought  on  the  backs  of  Indians, 
for  there  was  no  other  way  of  transporting  it.  I employed 
about  forty  of  them  and  they  carried  it  by  relays,  so  that 
the  task  was  not  so  difficult  for  them  as  one  might  sup- 
pose.” 

He  then,  in  response  to  my  questions,  told  me  many 
things  about  the  Indians  and  cholos,  that  will,  I think,  sur- 
prise many  people  who  have  been  accustomed  to  regard 
Indians  and  half-breeds,  wherever  found,  as  utterly  worth- 

i “Everywhere  a guest,  nowhere  a stranger.” 

316 


THEATRE  OF  A GREAT  TRAGEDY 


less  and  untrustworthy.  Mr.  L , besides  being  heavily 

interested  in  the  celebrated  silver  mines  of  Hualgayoc,  does 
an  extensive  wholesale  business  in  merchandise  of  all  kinds, 
and  bis  operations  extend  from  the  Pacific  to  the  Huallaga. 
His  experience  with  Indians  and  cbolos  is,  therefore,  worth 
recording,  and  I take  pleasure  in  doing  it,  as  it  is  in  keep- 
ing with  my  own  observations  on  these  much  misrepre- 
sented members  of  the  human  family. 

“During  the  past  twenty  years,  I have,”  declared  Mr. 

L , “shipped  millions  of  dollars’  worth  of  silver  to  the 

coast  by  mules  in  charge  of  Indians  and  cholos  and  so  far 
I have  never  lost  a dollar.  I supply  goods  to  nearly  five 
hundred  retailers,  whose  purchases  range  from  five  to 
twenty  thousand  soles,  and  carry  them  on  my  hooks  from 
six  months  to  a year.  The  amount  of  merchandise  cred- 
ited to  these  people  is  scarcely  ever  less  than  a million  soles, 
and  I can  truthfully  say  that  I have  rarely  lost  anything 
through  the  dishonesty  of  my  customers.” 

I then  recalled  what  I had  seen  at  Guaqui  illustrative 
of  the  honesty  and  reliability  of  the  Indians,  and  what  the 
early  chroniclers  tell  us  about  the  absence  of  locks  and  keys 
in  the  houses  of  the  Children  of  the  Sun.  How  different  is 
all  this  from  the  idea  entertained  by  certain  people  in  the 
United  States,  who  do  not  hesitate  to  declare  that  all  In- 
dians are  absolutely  depraved  and  untrustworthy. 

Before  departing  from  Lima  I was  assured  that  I should 
find  in  the  neighborhood  of  Cajamarca  long  sections  of  the 
old  Inca  roads  in  an  excellent  state  of  preservation.  I,  ac- 
cordingly, looked  forward  to  the  inspection  of  these  re- 
mains of  pre-Columbian  times  with  eager  anticipation. 

Cieza  de  Leon,  commenting  on  these  roads,  about  which 
so  much  has  been  written  since  his  time,  expresses  himself 
as  follows : 

“One  of  the  things  which  I admired  most,  in  contemplating 
and  noting  down  the  affairs  of  this  kingdom,  was  to  think 
how  and  in  what  manner  they  could  have  made  such  grand 
and  admirable  roads  as  we  now  see,  and  what  a number  of 

317 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


men  would  suffice  for  their  construction  and  with  what  tools 
and  instruments  they  can  have  leveled  the  mountains 
and  broken  through  the  rocks  to  make  them  so  broad  and 
good  as  they  are.  For  it  seems  to  me  that  if  the  Emperor 
should  desire  to  give  orders  for  another  royal  road  to  be 
made  like  that  which  goes  from  Quito  to  Cuzco,  or  the  other 
from  Cuzco  to  Chile,  with  all  his  power  I believe  that  he 
could  not  get  it  done;  nor  could  any  force  of  men  achieve 
such  results  unless  there  were  also  the  perfect  order  by 
means  of  which  the  commands  of  the  Incas  were  carried 
into  execution.  For  if  the  road  to  be  made  was  fifty  leagues 
long,  or  one  hundred  or  two  hundred,  and  though  the 
ground  was  of  the  most  rugged  character,  it  would  be  done 
with  diligent  care.  But  their  roads  were  much  longer, 
some  of  them  extending  for  over  one  thousand  one  hundred 
leagues  along  such  dizzy  and  frightful  abysses  that,  looking 
down,  the  sight  failed  one.  In  some  places,  to  secure  the 
regular  width,  it  was  necessary  to  hew  a path  out  of  the 
living  rock ; all  of  which  was  done  with  fire  and  their  picks. 
In  other  places,  the  ascents  were  so  steep  and  high  that 
steps  had  to  be  cut  from  below  to  enable  the  ascent  to  be 
made  with  wider  spaces  at  intervals  for  resting-places. 
In  other  parts  there  were  great  heaps  of  snow,  which  were 
more  to  be  feared,  and  not  at  one  spot  only,  but  often  re- 
curring. Where  these  snows  obstructed  the  way,  and  where 
there  were  forests  of  trees  and  loose  clods  of  earth,  the  road 
was  leveled  and  paved  with  stones  when  necessary.  ’ ’ 1 
This  road,  according  to  Gomara,  was  twenty-five  feet 
wide,  “cut  in  some  places  from  the  living  rock,  and  in  others 
made  of  stone  and  lime,  and  went  in  a direct  line,  without 
turning  aside  for  hills  or  mountains,  or  even  lakes,— a work, 
which  all  agree,  exceeded  the  pyramids  of  Egypt,  and  the 

i The  Second  Part  of  the  Chronicle  of  Peru,  Chap.  XV.  Cf.  Chap.  LXIII 
of  the  same  work,  wherein  the  author  assures  us  that  the  road  from  Cuzco  to 
Quito  “was  finished  in  less  time  than  it  is  possible  for  us  to  imagine,  for 
the  Incas  were  no  longer  in  ordering  it  than  were  their  subjects  in  finish- 
ing it.” 


318 


THEATRE  OF  A GREAT  TRAGEDY 

paved  ways  of  the  Romans,  and  indeed,  all  other  ancient 
works.”  1 

In  addition  to  this  road  in  the  sierra,  there  was,  we  are 
told,  another  and  a longer  road  along  the  coast.  This  high- 
way, Zarate  informs  us,  was  almost  forty  feet  wide,  with 
very  large  adobe  walls  from  one  end  to  the  other.  The 
same  writer  tells  us  that  Huayna  Capac,  the  conqueror  of 
Quito,  went  from  Cuzco  to  Quito  “by  one  road  and  returned 
by  the  other,  being  covered  and  shaded  all  the  way  by  over- 
hanging branches  and  flowers  of  sweet  odor.”  2 

On  these  and  similar  accounts  by  the  early  chroniclers 
have  been  based  those  pompous  descriptions  of  the  ancient 
Peruvian  highways  in  which  so  many  modern  writers  have 
given  free  rein  to  their  exuberant  fancy  and  which,  prob- 
ably, the  majority  of  their  readers  have  accepted  as  vera- 
cious statements  of  fact. 

But  what  are  the  facts  in  the  case?  Was  there  any  foun- 
dation for  the  glowing  accounts  of  these  roads  which,  ac- 
cording to  Hernando  Pizarro,  surpassed  anything  in  Chris- 
tendom, and  which,  another  enthusiastic  Spaniard  avers, 
should  be  ranked  “amongst  the  greatest  wonders  of  the 
world!”  What  is  the  present  condition  of  these  famous 
highways,  that  were  constructed  to  defy  the  elements, — 
“made  of  free-stone  slabs”  and  “covered  with  a cement  or 
a mixture  of  lime  and  bitumen,” — which  were  pronounced 
by  the  conquistadores  to  be  “beyond  comparison  greater 
than  the  monuments  of  Egypt  or  the  structures  of  Rome.” 
Were  these  roads  as  durable  as  reported,  were  they  “so 
nicely  constructed  that  a carriage  might  have  rolled  over 
them  as  securely  as  on  any  of  the  great  roads  of  Europe?” 
Was  the  road  on  the  plateau,  as  we  are  assured  by  a modern 
writer,  who  accepted  as  literally  true  the  statements  of  the 
historians  of  the  conquest,  “conducted  over  pathless  sierras 

1 Historiadores  Primitivos  de  Indias,  Tom.  I,  p.  277,  in  Biblioteca  de 
Autores  Espaiioles,  Madrid,  1877. 

2 Historia  del  Descumbrimiento  y Conquista  de  la  Provincia  del  Peru,  Lib. 
I,  Cap.  X,  Tom.  II  of  Historiadores  Primitivos  de  Indias. 

319 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

buried  in  snow;  through  galleries  cut  for  leagues  through 
the  living  rock?”  Were  “ravines  of  hideous  depth  filled  up 
with  solid  masonry,”  and  is  it  true  that  “all  the  difficulties 
that  beset  a wild  and  mountainous  region  and  which 
might  appal  the  most  courageous  modern  engineer  of 
modern  times,  were  encountered  and  successfully  over- 
come?” 1 

I shall  first  give  briefly  the  results  of  my  own  observa- 
tions regarding  the  famed  roads  of  the  Incas,  and  then  en- 
deavor to  explain  how  the  fairy  stories  of  the  early  chroni- 
clers have  been  accepted  as  historic  facts  by  the  histori- 
ans of  succeeding  ages. 

While  in  Ecuador,  as  the  reader  may  recollect,2  I made  a 
special  effort  to  discover  some  vestiges  of  the  northern 
section  of  the  road  that  was  said  to  have  connected  Cuzco 
with  Quito.  Not  only  was  I entirely  unsuccessful  in  my 
quest,  but  I could  not  find  a single  person  who  could  give  me 
any  satisfactory  information  regarding  it.  If  it  ever  ex- 
isted, it  should  not,  it  seems,  be  so  difficult  to  find  at  least 
some  traces  of  it  still.  The  remains  of  ancient  roads  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Riobamba  and  Quito,  that  are  some- 
times attributed  to  the  Incas,  are  most  probably  due  to  the 
Spaniards,  or  are  vestiges  of  roads  that  were  built  by  the 
natives  of  Quito  before  their  conquest  by  the  Children  of 
the  Sun. 

During  my  travels  on  the  Andean  plateau  between  La 
Paz  and  Cuzco,  I thought  I should  surely  find  something 
which  would  answer  to  the  descriptions  given  of  the  great 
highway  that  is  said  to  have  connected  the  Inca  capital 
with  the  Titicaca  basin.  Here  I met  with  no  more  success 
than  in  Ecuador.  I saw  certain  roads  on  the  west  shore 
of  Lake  Titicaca,  that  are  said  by  some  to  have  been  the 
work  of  the  Incas ; but  of  this  there  is  apparently  no  cer- 
tainty. They  may  have  been  constructed  by  the  Spaniards 
or  by  the  Aymaras.  At  any  rate,  they  were  far  from  being 

1 Prescott,  The  Conquest  of  Peru,  Lib.  I,  Chap.  II. 

2 See  Chap.  V,  p.  96. 


320 


THEATRE  OP  A GREAT  TRAGEDY 


the  magnificent  highways  which  the  rulers  of  Cuzco  are 
said  to  have  built  through  the  territory  of  Colla-suyu. 

As  I journeyed  down  the  valley  of  the  Vilcanota  and 
through  the  great  hols  on  of  Cuzco,  I was  always  on  the 
alert  to  discover,  if  possible,  traces  of  roads  that  were  cer- 
tainly of  Inca  origin,  but  the  result  of  my  observations  was 
far  from  what  I had  anticipated.  I found  vestiges  here 
and  there  of  roads  that  were  undoubtedly  of  great  an- 
tiquity, but  they  may  have  been  pre-Incaic,  and  the  work 
of  the  builders  of  the  Pelasgian  structures  found  in  Cuzco 
and  in  other  parts  of  Peru.  But  whether  they  were  due  to 
the  Incas  or  to  their  predecessors,  or  to  the  Spaniards, 
they  gave  no  evidence  of  ever  having  been  at  all  compara- 
ble with  the  splendid  highways  that  once  connected 
the  capital  of  the  Caesars  with  the  various  parts  of  the  great 
Roman  empire.  Even  in  and  around  the  city  of  Cuzco, 
the  streets  and  roads  were  at  best  nothing  more  than  or- 
dinary cobblestone  thoroughfares,  and  are  probably  in 
nearly  as  good  condition  to-day  as  they  were  in  the  time 
of  the  Incas.  They  are  certainly  far  from  being  the  smooth, 
macadamized  highways,  or  the  roads  constructed  of  care- 
fully cut  slabs  of  free-stone  and  porphyry  that  are  said, 
once  upon  a time,  to  have  existed  in  the  sparsely  settled 
and  inhospitable  northern  regions  of  Tahuantin-suyu. 

My  last  hope  of  finding  remains  of  the  Inca  roads,  that 
would  even  remotely  justify  the  extravagant  accounts 
given  them  by  writers  from  the  time  of  the  conquest  down 
to  our  own,  lay  in  Cajamarca.  Before  leaving  Lima  I was 
shown  a photograph  recently  made  of  what  I was  assured 
was  a section  of  the  old  highway  between  Cuzco  and  Quito 
— a picture  which  represented  a broad,  well-paved  way, 
that  might,  indeed,  bear  some  semblance  to  the  smooth, 
well-swept  causeway  over  which  Atahualpa  and  his  army 
marched  on  his  way  from  the  warm  baths  of  Pultamarca  1 
to  the  plaza  of  Cajamarca  on  the  memorable  afternoon  of 
Saturday,  November  16,  1532. 

1 Still  known  as  Banos  del  Inca — baths  of  the  Inca. 

321 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

Here  again  I was  doomed  to  disappointment.  The  roads 
round  about  Cajamarca  are  no  better  than,  if  as  good  as, 
those  seen  in  various  other  parts  of  the  great  Andean  pla- 
teau. And,  although  I made  special  and  persistent  inquiry 
of  the  best-informed  people  in  the  city,  I could  not  find  one 
who  was  prepared  to  identify  a single  vestige  of  road  that 
was  of  undoubted  Inca  origin. 

I then  found  myself,  much  against  my  will,  forced  to 
abandon  all  my  preconceived  notions  regarding  the  marvels 
and  magnificence  of  the  great  Inca  highways,  the  graphic 
accounts  of  which  have  so  long  fascinated  thousands  of 
readers  in  all  parts  of  the  world.  I discovered,  for  the  first 
time,  that  I had,  perhaps,  been  cherishing  an  illusion  when 
I expected  to  find  in  Peru  anything  that  would  warrant  the 
extravagant  statements  of  Cieza,  Zarate,  Gomara  and  oth- 
ers regarding  what  has  been  so  long  pointed  to  by  many 
as  one  of  the  greatest  evidences  of  Inca  power  and  Inca 
civilization. 

Had  I expected  too  much,  or  had  I been  deceived  by 
the  Spanish  chroniclers  and  by  those  who  have  so  closely 
followed  them  as  authorities  for  the  last  four  centu- 
ries? 

I had  not,  it  is  true,  visited  all  the  territory  through 
which  these  much  vaunted  roads  passed,  but  I had  traveled 
several  thousand  miles  along  the  routes  which  they  are  said 
to  have  traversed,  and  had  explored  those  sections  of  the 
countries  where  vestiges  of  them  should  be  best  preserved, 
and  I had  found  nothing  anywhere  to  justify  the  state- 
ments, so  often  repeated,  that  the  roads  in  question  were, 
at  the  time  of  the  conquest,  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  those 
great  Roman  highways  which  have  for  two  thousand  years 
evoked  the  admiration  and  the  praise  of  the  engineers  of 
the  world. 

So  great  was  my  disillusion  that  at  first  I hesitated  to 
formulate  an  opinion  that  must  needs  be  at  variance  with 
the  generally-accepted  view  of  historians  and  travelers  who 
have  descanted  so  eloquently  on  the  glories  of  Inca  rule 

322 


THEATRE  OF  A GREAT  TRAGEDY 


and  Inca  enlightenment.  But  why  hesitate  to  speak  the 
truth,  if  one’s  conclusions  are  justified? 

I have  already  quoted  the  opinion  of  the  learned  Ger- 
man explorer,  Dr.  Reiss,  who  has,  probably,  more  carefully 
explored  the  region  of  the  Andes  than  any  man  who  ever 
lived.  This  careful  and  conscientious  investigator,  in  re- 
ferring to  the  remains  of  the  Inca  road  near  the  boundary 
between  Peru  and  Ecuador,  which  Humboldt  had  so  highly 
praised,  does  not  hesitate  to  declare,  “I  do  not  understand 
how  they  can  have  been  compared  to  the  most  beautiful 
highways  of  the  Romans.  ’ ’ 1 

As  to  the  section  of  the  Inca  road  between  Cuzco  and 
Oroya,  which  I did  not  have  an  opportunity  of  inspecting, 
Petrocokino  writes:  “A  few  loads  of  granite  setts  shot 

into  a road  and  left  to  settle  would  fairly  describe  the  pres- 
ent condition  of  this  famous  highway.”  2 

Bandelier,  who  is  so  well  and  favorably  known  for  his 
archaeological  researches  in  Peru  and  elsewhere  in  Span- 
ish-America,  confirms  my  own  observations  in  the  most  pos- 
itive manner.  “Roads  of  ancient  make,”  he  writes,  “ex- 
ist in  various  places,  hut  they  are  not  after  a general  plan, 
and  not  connected.  These  roads,  or  wide  trails,  I have 
seen  often  in  the  course  of  eleven  years’  explorations, 
and  have  found  them  to  be  ways  of  communication  between 
neighboring  tribes,  made  by  these  tribes  previous  to  Inca 
sway.  Bitter  are  the  complaints  of  the  early  Spaniards 
when  they  describe  their  first  march  to  Cuzco  over  the  ab- 
sence of  trails,  even  in  the  vicinity  of  that  settlement.”  3 

1 In  his  Views  of  Nature,  p.  393,  Bohn  edition,  Humboldt  expresses  him- 
self as  follows:  “None  of  the  Roman  roads,  which  I have  seen  in  Italy,  in 

the  south  of  France  and  in  Spain,  appeared  to  me  more  imposing  than  this 
work  of  the  ancient  Peruvians.”  I rather  suspect  that,  had  he  not  been 
deterred  by  the  reverence,  which  all  his  countrymen  entertain  for  the  illus- 
trious author  of  the  Cosmos,  Dr.  Reiss  would  have  been  less  guarded  in  his 
judgment. 

2 Along  the  Andes,  p.  45,  London,  1903. 

3 Harper’s  Magazine,  Vol.  CX,  pp.  636-637.  Larrabure  y Unanue,  holds  a 
similar  view  as  to  the  antiquity  of  the  roads  in  question.  “Manco  Capac  and 
his  descendants,”  he  writes,  “must  have  found  roads  already  made,  correspond- 

323 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


This  statement  of  the  eminent  explorer  is  quite  different 
from  that  which  Wiener  makes  regarding  the  network  of 
macadamized  roads  whose  existence  through  the  length  and 
breadth  of  the  Inca  empire,  he  will  have  it,  admits  of  no 
doubt  whatever.1 

What  Bandelier  says  concerning  roads  being  made  by 
certain  tribes  previous  to  Inca  sway  may,  I think,  be  re- 
garded as  unquestionable.  This  would  apply  particularly 
to  the  vestiges  of  roads  along  the  coast  near  Trujillo 
in  the  territory  formerly  inhabited  by  the  enterprising 
and  powerful  Chimus.  It  would  likewise  hold  good  for 
the  region  around  Cajamarca,  and  that  part  of  the  An- 
dean tableland  which  is  included  between  Riobamba  and 
Quito.2 

Zarate  would  have  us  believe  that  during  the  reign  of  a 
single  Inca — Huayna  Capac,  the  conqueror  of  the  country 
now  known  as  Ecuador — two  roads  were  begun  and  com- 
pleted and  that  each  of  these  was  five  hundred  leagues  in 
length,  “very  broad  and  smooth,  and  so  level,  when 
finished,  that  a carriage  might  have  gone  over  it.”  And 
we  are  furthermore  asked  to  believe  that  all  this  was  ac- 
complished by  a people  who  had  no  knowledge  of  explo- 
sives of  any  kind  and  who  were  even  ignorant  of  the  use  of 
iron;  that  both  these  stupendous  undertakings  were  car- 
ing to  earlier  civilizations,  and  they  but  re-established  them  little  by  little 
and  repaired  them  in  proportion  as  they  advanced  in  their  conquests  and 
extended  their  frontiers.”  Op.  cit.,  p.  149. 

1 “Ce  reseau — tel  qu’  il  r^sulte  des  itinfiraires  des  conquistadorcs  connus 
par  les  historiagraphes  de  la  conquete — est  done  une  reconstitution  qui  a 
tous  les  caract&res  d’  une  certitude  absolue.”  Op.  cit.,  p.  556. 

2 Gomara  admits  this  for  the  mountain  road  between  Cuzco  and  Quito,  for 
he  says,  “Guainacapa” — Huayna  Capac — “lo  alargo  y restauro,  y no  lo  hizo, 
como  algunos  dicen;  que  cosa  vieja  es,  y que,  no  la  pudiera  acabar  en  su 
vida” — “Guaincapa  extended  and  restored  it,  but  did  not  build  it,  as  some 
say,  for  it  is  something  old,  and  he  could  not  have  completed  it  during  his 
lifetime.”  Op.  cit.,  p.  277.  As  Quito  did  not  come  under  the  dominion  of 
the  Incas  until  the  reign  of  Huyana  Capac,  it  is  clear,  from  Gomara’s  testi- 
mony, that  at  least  the  northern  part  of  the  Cuzco-Quito  highway  was  not 
the  work,  as  is  usually  supposed,  of  the  Children  of  the  Sun,  but  of  the 
earlier  inhabitants  of  the  conquered  country. 

324 


THEATRE  OF  A GREAT  TRAGEDY 


ried  to  a successful  issue  while  the  Inca  monarch  was  en- 
gaged in  subjugating  the  powerful  and  well-organized  tribes 
of  the  north  and  by  a population  which,  we  have  reason  to 
believe,  was  no  more  numerous  in  the  regions  traversed 
by  the  roads  in  question  than  it  is  at  present.  To  construct 
two  such  roads  as  those  described  between  Cuzco  and  Quito 
would,  even  to-day,  exhaust  many  times  over  the  resources 
of  the  Peruvian  government  and  baffle  our  most  expert  en- 
gineers with  all  the  appliances  of  modern  science  and  Yan- 
kee invention. 

The  descriptions  of  the  Inca  roads  must,  I cannot  help 
thinking,  be  classed  among  those  exaggerations  which  so 
often  characterize  the  accounts  of  battles  between  the  Incas 
and  the  conquistadores,  in  which  the  chronicler  is  made  to 
exalt  the  glories  of  Spanish  valor  by  recording  events  that 
did  not  and  could  not  have  occurred.  The  exaggerations 
may  also  be  due  to  the  fact  that  the  mountain  trails  which 
they  found  among  the  sierras  were  incomparably  better 
than  the  narrow  and  precarious  paths  with  which  they  had 
been  familiar  in  the  wild,  forest-clad  regions  of  Darien  and 
Castilla  del  Oro. 

Still  another  reason,  aside  from  exaggeration,  may  be 
found  in  the  fact,  too  often  ignored,  that  the  public  high- 
ways, even  in  Europe,  were,  at  the  time  of  the  conquest, 
far  from  being  what  they  are  to-day.  In  Spain  good  roads, 
even  between  the  largest  cities,  were  quite  exceptional. 
Usually  they  were  so  bad  as  to  evoke  the  historical  ex- 
clamation, 0 dura  tellus  Hispanice!  Such  being  the  case, 
the  Peruvian  roads  may  have  appeared  to  many  of  the 
Spanish  chroniclers,  who  had  little  knowledge  of  good  roads 
in  the  mother  country,  as  really  deserving  of  the  praise 
they  bestowed  upon  them.  But,  compared  with  the  Appian 
Way  or  the  Via  JEmelia,  over  which  rolled  the  chariots  of 
the  Roman  conquerors,  or  with  the  splendid  roads  in  Europe 
and  America,  that  are  now  the  delight  of  the  automobilist, 
the  Inca  highways,  on  which  so  much  rhetoric  has  been 
wasted,  were,  in  the  sierras,  little,  if  any,  better  than  moun- 

325 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


tain  trails.  Along  the  coast  and  outside  of  the  towns  they 
were  probably  nothing  more  than  desert  paths  like  those 
which,  not  many  decades  ago,  passed  through  the  Llanos 
Estacados  of  western  Texas.  The  fact  that  such  slight 
vestiges  of  them  now  remain  proves  conclusively  that  they 
were  far  from  being  the  matchless  works  depicted  by  chron- 
icler and  explorer,  and  incomparably  inferior  to  the  noble 
Via  Sacra  that  terminated  in  Eleusis,  or  the  magnificent 
causeway  over  which  the  pilgrims  of  nearly  three  thousand 
years  ago  journeyed  up  the  flanks  of  Parnassus  on  their 
way  to  the  shrine  of  the  Delphic  Apollo. 

It  is  said  that  the  Inca  roads  were  destroyed  by  the  ele- 
ments and  the  Spaniards.  If  they  were  ever  what  they 
have  been  represented  to  be,1  they  would  surely  make  as 
good  a showing  to-day — which  they  certainly  do  not — as 
does  the  road,  still  imposing  in  its  ruins,  which  led  up  a 
steep  mountain  slope  to  the  most  famous  oracle  of  ancient 
Greece. 

That  this  tradition,  or  fiction  rather,  concerning  the  roads 
of  the  Incas  as  works  deserving  to  be  classed  among  the 
wonders  of  the  world,  and  that,  too,  in  a country  in  which 
there  were  no  beasts  of  draught  or  burden,  except  the 
llama,  and  no  wheeled  vehicles  of  any  kind,  should  have 
been  able  to  survive  so  long,  is  to  me  one  of  the  most  won- 
derful things  in  connection  with  the  history  of  Peru.  It 
shows  how  limited  is  still  our  knowledge  of  this  interesting 
land,  and  the  necessity  there  is  of  a more  thorough  study 
of  its  archaeological  remains  and  early  history,  especially 
that  bearing  on  the  divers  waves  of  migration  which  have 
passed  over  this  part  of  South  America,  leaving  everywhere 
traces  of  their  passage  and  often,  too,  leaving  behind  them 

1 Las  Casas,  for  instance,  who,  relying  on  his  informants  who  had  been 
in  Peru,  describes  the  roads  as  “Cosa  admirable  y divina,”  and  declares  that 
the  one  in  the  sierra,  which,  he  tells  us  extended  from  Pasto,  in  New  Granada, 
to  the  Strait  of  Magellan,  was  so  well  constructed  as  to  resist  the  destruc- 
tive effects  of  the  elements  for  all  time — “que  ni  por  nieves  ni  por  aguas 
puede  jamas  derrumbarse Apologetica  Historia  de  las  Indias,  p.  662,  in 
Nueva  Biblioteca  de  Autores  Espanoles,  Madrid,  1909. 

326 


THEATRE  OF  A GREAT  TRAGEDY 


monuments  like  those  of  Chan-Chan,  Pachacamac  and  Tia- 
huanaco,  which  equal,  if  they  do  not  surpass,  anything  still 
standing  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  Children  of  the 
Sun.  When  such  an  exhaustive  investigation  shall  have 
been  made,  we  shall  doubtless  discover  that  much  of  what 
has  long  been  attributed  to  the  Incas  should  be  credited 
to  their  predecessors  or  contemporaries,  and  that  among 
the  many  works  for  which  the  Incas  have  received  exclu- 
sive credit,  not  the  least  of  them  will  be  those  famous  high- 
ways which  have  been  such  a favorite  theme  for  writers 
on  Peru  since  the  time  of  the  conquistadores. 

As  we  were  returning  from  our  futile  attempt  to  locate 
the  section  of  the  road,  which  I had  been  so  positively  as- 
sured could  be  found  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  city, 
we  came  to  the  Church  of  San  Francisco,  said  to  be  built 
on  the  site  formerly  occupied  by  the  temple  of  the  Sun. 
The  reader  in  this  connection  will  recollect  that  what  still 
remains  of  the  great  temple  of  the  Sun  in  Cuzco  is  now  a 
part  of  the  Church  of  San  Domingo. 

“Let  us  call  on  the  Franciscans  while  we  are  here,”  said 
one  of  the  party.  “They  are  charming  people  and  are  do- 
ing noble  work,  not  only  in  the  city  here  but  also  in  the 
towns  and  villages  for  miles  around.  The  people,  and  espe- 
cially the  Indians,  almost  idolize  them,  for  they  are  sure 
to  see  these  good  padres  among  them  whenever  they  are 
in  trouble  or  when  their  ministrations  are  required.  The 
recording  angel  only  knows  the  good  these  devoted  sons  of 
St.  Francis  have  accomplished  among  the  poor  of  the  Cor- 
dilleras. Their  name  is  held  in  benediction  by  all  who  have 
come  under  their  gentle  and  benign  influence,  and  deserv- 
edly so.” 

The  good  religious  received  us  most  cordially  and  showed 
us  everything  of  interest  in  their  church  and  monastery. 
One  could  see  at  a glance  that  they  were  true  to  their  pro- 
fession— men  of  zeal,  abnegation  and  of  the  broadest  char- 
ity for  their  fellow-men,  of  whatever  faith  or  calling.  They 
were,  indeed,  worthy  disciples  of  the  Poverello  of  Assisi, 

327 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


and  we  left  them  ready  and  willing  to  believe  all  the  good 
things  we  had  heard  of  them. 

But  a short  distance  from  San  Francisco  is  the  site  which 
tradition  says  was  occupied  by  the  convent  of  the  Virgins 
of  the  Sun.  The  student  of  Peruvian  history  is  aware  that 
there  was  a temple  of  the  Sun  in  all  the  important  towns 
of  the  Inca  empire,  and  wherever  there  was  such  a place 
of  worship  there  was  also  an  accla-huasi — a house  of 
women  engaged  in  service  connected  with  the  worship  of 
the  Sun. 

As  in  Cuzco  the  Accla-huasi — the  abode  of  fifteen  hun- 
dred Virgins  of  the  Sun,  all  of  the  blood  royal — is  now  the 
convent  of  Santa  Catalina,  so  here  on  the  reputed  site  of 
the  Virgins  of  the  Sun,  there  is  a similar  institution.  For 
here  the  Sisters  of  Charity,  those  noble  daughters  of  St. 
Vincent  de  Paul,  who  are  ever  found  where  there  is  dis- 
tress to  be  relieved,  or  suffering  to  be  allayed,  have  a 
school,  an  hospital  and  an  orphan  asylum,  all  of  which  are 
conducted  on  the  same  principles  that  have  rendered  their 
institutions  so  famous  in  every  part  of  the  globe.  Here  we 
found  the  same  devotion  to  duty,  the  same  self-sacrifice 
that  characterize  the  labors  of  their  sisters  in  the  isolated 
Llanos  of  Colombia  or  among  the  children  of  the  forest 
on  the  banks  of  the  Napo;  the  same  zeal  for  the  work  of 
the  Master,  the  same  ardent  charity  for  the  poor  and  the 
unfortunate  as  take  their  associates  in  religion  through 
the  snows  of  Athabasca,  or  into  the  jungles  of  equatorial 
Africa,  or  renders  them  happy  in  the  pest-laden  atmos- 
phere of  the  leper  colony  of  Molokai. 

“How,”  I asked  the  mother  superior,  remembering  the 
long  and  painful  journey  from  the  coast  to  the  crest  of 
the  Cordillera,  “how  were  you  ever  able  to  reach  this  out- 
of-the-way  place  in  the  mountains?” 

“To  tell  the  truth,”  replied  the  humble  religious,  “I 
hardly  know  how  we  got  here.  None  of  us  had  ever  been 
in  the  saddle  before,  but  somehow  or  other  we  all  managed 
to  keep  on  our  mules  and  arrive  here  without  a mishap 

328 


THEATRE  OF  A GREAT  TRAGEDY 


of  any  kind.  I suppose  also,”  she  said  smiling,  “we  were 
able  to  realize,  as  others  have  realized,  the  truth  of  the 
old  saying:  ‘ Quien  se  guarda,  Dios  le  guarda’ — ‘God 

helps  those  who  help  themselves.’  ” 

“And  where  did  you  stop  at  night,  when  there  were  no 
hotels  to  be  found?” 

“We  were  always  given  hospitality  by  the  people  along 
the  road.  They  everywhere — God  bless  them! — vied  with 
one  another  as  to  who  should  have  the  honor  of  entertain- 
ing las  hermanitas — the  little  sisters,  as  they  called  us — 
and  although  their  homes  were  often  very  humble,  and 
they  had  but  little  to  give  us,  their  extreme  kindness  and 
their  manifest  delight  at  having  the  sisters  in  their  midst, 
made  us  forget  all  the  little  inconveniences  and  discom- 
forts of  our  surroundings.” 

These  same  sisters,  I may  here  add,  were,  at  the  time  of 
my  visit,  contemplating  the  establishment  of  a house  in 
Chachapoyas,  in  the  heart  of  the  Sierra  to  the  east  of  the 
Maranon.  The  length  and  arduous  character  of  the  jour- 
ney to  that  distant  point  had  no  terrors  for  them.  They 
were  ready  to  depart  on  a moment’s  notice,  whenever 
obedience  called  them. 

“ ‘Que  mujeres  tan  heroicas!’ — ‘what  heroic  women,’  ” 
exclaimed  one  of  our  party  in  admiration  of  all  he  had  seen 
and  heard. 

“ ‘De  veras,  son  heroinas/  ” responded  another,  “ ‘y 
angeles  de  pureza  y caridad’ — ‘they  are  indeed  heroines 
and  angels  of  purity  and  charity.’  How  different  is  their 
vocation  from  that  of  the  so-called  Virgins  of  the  Sun,  who 
formerly  had  their  home  on  or  near  this  spot!” 

He  was  right.  And,  ungracious  as  it  may  seem,  it  is 
safe  to  say  that  as  many  errors  have  been  current  regard- 
ing the  “Virgins  of  the  Sun”  as  have  so  long  prevailed 
concerning  the  roads  of  the  Inca. 

The  initial  mistake  about  their  true  character  arose  from 
the  misleading  name  monasterios — convents — given  their 
habitations  by  the  Spaniards  at  the  time  of  the  conquest. 

329 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Calling  the  houses  “convents”  and  the  inmates  monjas — 
nuns — governed  by  abadesas  and  maestras  de  novicias — 
abbesses  and  mistresses  of  novices  1 — from  a fancied  re- 
semblance to  institutions  with  which  they  were  familiar  in 
the  mother  country,  they  unconsciously  gave  currency  to 
an  error  in  the  minds  of  many  that  still  persists  and  in 
spite  of  all  that  has  been  written  to  the  contrary.  Had 
they  used  the  Quichua  name,  aclla-cuna — chosen  ones — 
applied  to  these  women  and  employed  the  term  accla-huasi 
— house  of  the  chosen  ones — to  designate  their  place  of 
abode,  the  misapprehension  that  has  so  long  obtained  re- 
garding their  true  character  would,  probably,  never  have 
occurred. 

Then  again,  the  error  once  started  on  its  course,  was 
perpetuated  by  Garcilaso,  who  unduly  lauded  the  lives 
of  the  aclla-cuna  and  their  strict  observance  of  claustral 
rules,  which,  he  declares,  were  never  violated  either  by  those 
within  or  those  without  the  sacred  precincts  of  the  cloister. 
But  he  is  practically  alone  in  this  view  for  the  concurrent 
testimony  of  most  of  the  early  chroniclers  discloses  quite 
a different  story. 

Xeres,  for  instance,  tells  us  that  on  their  way  to  Ca- 
jamarca,  the  soldiers  of  Pizarro,  at  the  entrance  of  the 
village  of  Caxas,  found  “certain  Indians  hung  up  by  the 
feet,”  and  this,  they  were  informed,  was  because  “Ataba- 
lipa — Atahualpa — had  ordered  them  to  be  killed,  because 
one  of  them  entered  the  house  of  the  women,”  who  were 
aclla-cuna.2 

1 Garcilaso,  op.  cit.,  Lib.  IV,  Cap.  I— III. 

2 Op.  cit.,  p.  28.  Aclla-cuna,  it  may  here  be  remarked,  is  the  plural  of 
aclla.  The  suffix  cuna  indicates  the  plural  of  the  noun  to  which  it  is  added. 
Acllas — the  Spanish  form  of  the  plural — is  usually  employed.  By  a curious 
slip  of  the  pen,  Ficke  writes  “an  aclla-cuna.” 

The  name  given  to  the  religieuses  of  the  various  Catholic  sisterhoods  by 
the  Quichua  Indians  of  the  present  time  is  Dios-pa.  accla-cuna — the  chosen 
ones  of  God. 

Those  who  desire  further  information  regarding  this  interesting,  but 
little-understood,  subject  of  the  character  and  occupation  of  the  aclla-cuna — 
and  the  uses  of  women  and  children  as  tribute  among  the  Incas,  may  consult 

330 


THEATRE  OF  A GREAT  TRAGEDY 


An  incident  of  much  greater  import,  bearing  on  this 
matter,  is  recorded  by  Salcamayhua.  In  his  Account  of 
the  Antiquities  of  Peru,  he  tells  us  how  Huascar  Inca  ‘ ‘ or- 
dered the  acllas  of  all  four  classes  to  be  brought  into  the 
open  square  of  Cuzco  in  the  middle  of  all  the  curacas  and 
the  whole  army  and  to  be  forced  to  gratify  the  basest 
passions  of  a brutal  soldiery.”  1 

Other  similar  instances  are  recorded,  but  the  two  just 
adduced  show  how  far  from  the  truth  Garcilaso  is  who, 
when  speaking  of  the  penalties  incurred  by  those  who  vio- 
lated the  law  governing  the  accla-huasi,  assures  us  that 
that  law  “was  never  put  into  execution,  because  no  man 
ever  transgressed  it.”  2 

The  fact  is,  as  we  learn  from  the  statements  of  those 
“who  saw  Indian  society  in  Peru  while  in  its  primitive 
condition,”  the  aclla-cuna  and  mamaconas — outside  of 
those  who  were  of  the  blood  royal — hustas — were  nothing 
more  than  “a  tribute  in  women  exacted  by  the  Cuzco 
tribe,”  and  “chastity  on  their  part  was  only  relative,  not 
absolute.  The  buildings  in  which  such  women  were  kept 
were  neither  more  nor  less  than  storehouses  sheltering 
a tribute  of  women.”3  Hernando  Pizarro,  in  a letter  to 
the  royal  audience  of  Santo  Domingo  well  calls  them 
“houses  of  imprisoned  women  with  guards  at  the  doors.” 
That  the  reader  may  see  at  a glance  how  the  aclla-cuna 
were  recruited  and  what  were  their  occupations  and  the 

with  profit  The  Second  Part  of  the  Chronicle  of  Cieza  de  Leon,  Cap.  XVIII; 
History  of  the  Incas,  Chap.  LII,  by  Pedro  Sarmiento;  Ramos,  Historia  de 
Copacabana  y de  su  Milagrosa  Virgen  y compendiada  por  Fray  Rafael  Sans, 
La  Paz,  1860;  Relacion  del  Descubrimiento  y Conquista  de  los  Reinos  del 
Peru,  p.  266,  por  Pedro  Pizarro  in  Coleccion  de  Documentos  ineditos  para  la 
Historia  de  Espaha,  Vol.  V.  Discarding  all  euphemistic  paraphrase,  Fiske,  in 
his  work,  “The  Discovery  of  America,”  Vol.  II,  p.  345,  declares  that  the 
acllas  “were  concubines  of  the  Inca.”  Their  consent  to  becoming  inmates  of 
the  accla-huasi  was  never  asked,  and  if  they  entered  it  or  remained  in  it  vol- 
untarily, it  was  usually  for  the  same  reason  that  a Georgian  or  Circassian 
beauty  becomes  a willing  odalisk  in  the  seraglio  of  the  Grand  Turk. 

1 Op.  cit.,  p.  1 12. 

2 Op.  cit.,  Lib.  IV,  Cap.  III. 

8 Bandelier,  The  Islands  of  Titicaca  and  Koati,  p.  254. 

331 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


purposes  they  served,  I will  transcribe  a passage  from  the 
accomplished  statesman,  Polo  de  Ondegardo,  who  went  to 
Peru  with  President  Gasca,  and  who,  for  a time,  was  cor- 
regidor  of  Cuzco.  In  his  report  on  the  Lineage  of  the 
Incas  and  How  They  Extended  Their  Conquests,  he  writes 
as  follows: — 

“There  was  another  kind  of  contribution  in  the  time  of 
the  Incas,  which  was  as  heavy  and  onerous  as  all  the  others. 
In  every  province  they  had  a house  called  Aclla-huasi 
which  means,  ‘the  house  of  the  chosen  ones,’  where  the 
following  order  was  kept:  There  was  a governor  in  each 

province  whose  sole  duty  was  to  attend  to  the  business  of 
these  houses,  whose  title  was  Apu-panaca.  His  jurisdic- 
tion extended  over  one  hunu,  which  means  ten  thousand  In- 
dians, and  he  had  power  to  select  all  the  girls  who  appeared 
to  him  to  be  of  promising  dispositions,  at  the  ages  of  eight 
or  nine  years,  without  any  limit  as  to  the  number  chosen. 
They  were  put  into  this  house  in  company  with  a hundred 
Mama-cunas, 1 who  resided  there,  where  they  were  taught 
all  the  accomplishments  proper  for  women,  such  as  to  sew, 
to  weave,  to  make  the  drinks  used  by  the  Indians;  and 
their  work,  in  the  month  of  February  at  the  Feast  of 
Raymy  was  taken  to  the  city  of  Cuzco.  They  were  strictly 
watched  until  they  reached  the  age  of  thirteen  or  fourteen 
years  and  upwards,  so  that  they  might  be  virgins  when 
they  should  arrive  at  Cuzco,  where  they  assembled  in  great 
numbers  from  all  the  provinces  in  the  middle  of  March. 
The  order  of  distribution  was  as  follows : 

“Women  were  taken  for  the  service  of  the  Sun,  and  placed 
in  the  temples,  where  they  were  kept  as  virgins.  In  the 
same  order  women  were  given  to  the  service  of  pacha- 
mama,  and  of  other  things  in  their  religion.  Then  others 
were  selected  for  the  sacrifices  that  were  offered  in  the 
course  of  the  year,  which  were  numerous.  On  these  oc- 
casions they  killed  the  girls,  and  it  was  necessary  that  they 
should  be  virgins;  besides  offering  them  up  at  special  sea- 

1 Matrons  who  had  charge  of  the  Virgins  of  the  Sun. 

332 


THEATRE  OF  A GREAT  TRAGEDY 


sons,  such  as  for  the  health  of  the  Inca,  for  his  success  in 
war,  for  a total  eclipse  of  the  sun,  on  earthquakes,  and 
on  many  other  occasions  suggested  by  the  Devil.  Others 
were  set  apart  for  the  service  of  the  Inca,  and  for  other 
persons  to  whom  he  showed  favor.  When  any  man  had 
received  a woman  as  his  legitimate  wife  or  mamanchu,  he 
could  not  take  another  except  through  the  favor  of  the  Inca, 
which  was  shown  for  various  reasons,  either  to  one  who 
had  special  skill  in  any  art,  or  to  one  who  had  shown  valor 
in  war,  or  had  pleased  the  Inca  in  any  other  way.  The 
number  of  women  who  were  set  apart  for  these  uses  was 
very  great,  and  they  were  selected  without  any  regard  to 
whom  they  belonged,  but  merely  because  they  were  chosen 
by  the  Apu-panaca,  and  the  parents  could  not  excuse  or 
redeem  them  under  any  circumstances.  Estates  were  set 
apart  for  the  support  of  the  houses  of  the  chosen  ones 
and  this  tribute  would  have  been  felt  more  than  any  other, 
if  it  had  not  been  for  the  belief  that  the  souls  of  the  girls 
that  were  sacrificed  went  to  enjoy  infinite  rest,  which  was 
the  reason  that  sometimes  they  voluntarily  offered  them- 
selves for  sacrifice.”  1 

This  quotation  shows  how  the  so-styled  “Virgins  of  the 
Sun”  were,  in  their  raison  d ’ etre  and  occupation,  toto 
ccelo  different  from  the  consecrated  virgins  of  the  Catholic 
Church,  who  voluntarily  and  only  after  attaining  woman- 
hood, assume  the  obligations  of  a life  of  poverty,  chastity 
and  obedience,  and  dedicate  themselves  to  the  work  of 

1 Op.  cit.,  p.  165. 

Garcilaso  denies  that  the  Incas  were  ever  guilty  of  human  sacrifices.  The 
consensus  of  authority  is,  however,  decidedly  against  him.  Among  modern 
writers  Markham  sides  with  Garcilaso,  while  Prescott,  Rivero  and  Helps 
accept  the  testimony  of  the  majority  of  the  early  chroniclers,  who  distinctly 
assert  the  existence  of  human  sacrifices  among  the  ancient  Peruvians,  although 
“they  were  never,”  as  Prescott  observed,  “followed  by  those  cannibal  repasts 
familiar  to  the  Mexicans  and  to  many  of  the  fierce  tribes  conquered  by  the 
Incas.”  For  a summary  of  the  evidence  bearing  on  this  question,  see  Pres- 
cott’s Conquest  of  Peru,  Book  I,  Chap.  Ill,  and  Markham’s  translation  of 
Gareilaso’s  First  Part  of  the  Royal  Commentaries  of  the  Incas,  Vol.  I,  pp. 
139-142. 


333 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


instruction  of  youth  and  the  care  of  the  poor,  the  sick, 
the  helpless  and  the  unfortunate. 

Adjoining  the  convent  of  the  Sisters  of  Charity  and  a 
part  of  the  property  within  their  enclosure,  is  what  is 
represented  to  be  the  building  in  which  was  collected  the 
famous  ransom  of  Atahualpa.  I know  that  Lorente  1 as- 
serts that  this  historic  structure  was  recently  destroyed, 
but  I think  he  must  confound  the  captive’s  prison,  which 
has  disappeared,  with  the  chamber  in  which  the  ransom 
was  stored,  which  was  in  a different  part  of  the  city.  At 
all  events,  tradition  in  Cajamarca,  which  seems  to  be  well 
founded  and  is  generally  accepted,  points  to  this  building 
on  the  premises  of  the  sisters  as  El  Palacio  del  Inca — the 
house  of  Atahualpa ’s  ransom. 

With  the  kind  assistance  of  the  prefect  I measured  the 
building  and  found  its  inside  dimensions  to  be  as  follows: 

Length  32  feet  9 inches 

Width  20  “ 9 “ 

Height  10  “ 8 “ 2 

The  wall  is  thirty-four  and  a half  inches  thick  and  built 
of  the  same  kind  of  massive  dressed  stone  that  is  found 
in  the  old  Inca  palaces  and  temples  of  Cuzco  and  Ollantay- 
tambo.  There  seems  no  doubt  about  the  antiquity  of  the 
structure,  and  the  architecture  in  all  its  details  is  decidedly 
Incaic. 

The  height  to  which  Atahualpa  agreed  to  fill  this  build- 
ing with  gold  and  silver,  chiefly  in  the  form  of  ornaments 
and  domestic  utensils,  as  the  price  of  his  liberty,  was  nine 
feet,  or  as  Hernando  Pizarro  expresses  it,  “up  to  the  white 
line,  which  was  the  height  of  a man  and  a half  from  the 
floor.”  The  value  of  the  treasure  actually  collected,  ac- 

1 Historia  de  la  Conquista  del  Peru,  p.  161,  Lima,  1861. 

2 This  agrees  closely  with  the  dimensions — evidently  not  intended  to  be 
exact — given  by  Hernando  Pizarro  in  his  Letter  to  the  Royal  Audience  of 
Santo  Domingo,  in  which  he  states  that  “the  room  was  seventeen  or  eighteen 
feet  wide,  and  thirty-five  feet  long.”  Re-ports  of  the  Discovery  of  Peru,  p.  120, 
translated  by  C.  R.  Markham  for  the  Hakluyt  Society,  London,  1872. 

334 


House  of  Atahualpa’s  Ransom,  Cajamarca.  Indian  Women  on  the  Paranapura. 


THEATRE  OF  A GREAT  TRAGEDY 


cording  to  Xerez  and  the  notary  Pedro  Sanchez,  was  four 
million  six  hundred  and  five  thousand  six  hundred  and 
seventy  ducats,  which  has  been  estimated  to  be  equal  to 
£3,500,000 — more  than  $17,000,000  our  money.1 

This  immense  treasure  of  gold  and  silver,  added  to  the 
millions  subsequently  found  in  the  ruins  of  Chan-Chan 
and  in  and  about  Cuzco,  Mananchili  and  Lake  Titicaca 
gives  one  some  idea  of  the  hoards  of  the  precious  metals 
that  had,  during  long  generations,  been  accumulated  by  the 
ancient  Peruvians.  And  yet,  if  we  are  to  credit  the  state- 
ments made  at  the  time  of  the  conquest,  the  Spaniards 
secured  but  a small  fraction  of  the  treasures  that  existed 
in  the  country  before  their  arrival. 

A short  distance  from  the  Palacio  del  Inca,  on  the  side 
of  the  plaza  opposite  La  Matriz — the  chief  church  of  the 
city — is  La  Carcel — the  prison  of  the  department — in 
which  is  shown  a slab  that  marks  the  spot  where  Atahualpa 
was  garroted  under  conditions  which  leave  a stain  on  the 
memory  of  all  who  were  in  any  wise  responsible  for  his 
execution.  The  whole  transaction  has  been  truthfully 
characterized  by  Las  Casas  as  “larga,  lamentable  y do- 
lorosa historia,  no  menos  miser  a de  contar” — “a  long  and 
lamentable  and  dismal  story  and  pitiful  to  relate.”  2 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  discuss  a subject  that  has  been 
a matter  of  controversy  for  nearly  four  centuries — a con- 
troversy which  has  too  often  been  dominated  by  the  spirit 
of  party  and  nationality — but  no  student  of  history  can 
stand  on  this  tragic  spot  unmoved  or  without  making  a few 
reflections  suggested  by  the  memory  of  the  proceedings 
which,  in  the  opinion  of  many,  constitute  the  darkest  chap- 
ter in  the  annals  of  Peru. 

Without  holding  a brief  for  Pizarro  and  his  companions, 
one  may  be  permitted  to  believe  that  much  may  be  said  in 
extenuation  of  the  tragedy  which  has  been  condemned  by 

1 Garcilaso,  Comentarios  Reales  del  Peru,  Parte  II,  Lib.  I,  Cap.  XXXVIII, 
Madrid,  1722. 

2 Op.  cit.,  p.  681. 


335 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


some  in  such  unmeasured  terms  and  defended  by  others 
as  a political  expediency,  if  not  a military  necessity. 

The  occurrence  was  no  doubt  a most  regrettable  one,  but 
whether  the  Spaniards  deserve  all  the  unreserved  con- 
demnation they  have  met  with  at  the  hands  of  certain  his- 
torians is  not  clear.  There  are  two  sides  to  every  question, 
and  the  more  carefully  the  execution  of  Atahualpa  is 
studied  by  the  impartial  investigator,  the  more  it  becomes 
evident  that  the  circumstances  leading  to  it  are  calculated 
greatly  to  mitigate  the  reprobation  that  the  deed  has  pro- 
voked. 

Without  entering  into  details,  which  would  be  out  of 
place  in  a work  like  the  present,  it  may  be  safely  asserted 
that  Pizarro  and  his  men — whatever  were  the  real  motives 
which  actuated  them  in  taking  the  life  of  their  victim — 
did  merely  what  others  would  have  done  if  similarly  sit- 
uated. They  were,  or  believed  they  were,  in  a hostile  coun- 
try and  surrounded  by  myriads  of  men  subject  to  the  or- 
ders of  a cruel  and  perfidious  usurper.  What  was  then 
left  for  them  to  do?  Allow  themselves  to  he  captured  by 
their  enemies  and  offered  up  as  a sacrifice  to  the  Sun, — 
the  god  of  the  empire, — or  wait  resignedly  until  the  troops 
of  the  Inca  had  taken  positions  of  vantage  in  order  thus 
to  have  the  invaders  more  securely  in  their  power?  Ad- 
vance or  retreat  was  out  of  the  question,  as  long  as  it  was 
possible  for  the  Inca  to  command  the  hosts  that  had  fol- 
lowed him  from  Quito,  and  who  but  awaited  a signal  from 
him  to  do  his  bidding.  They  had,  at  his  instigation, 
cruelly  murdered  his  brother  Huascar  and  put  to  an 
ignominious  death  all  those  who  might  impede  his  way  to 
a throne  to  which  he  had  no  claim.  Unless,  then,  the 
Spaniards  were  prepared  to  share  the  fate  of  Huascar  and 
his  followers,  a bold  coup  de  main , that  would  strike  terror 
into  the  minds  of  the  Indians  was  imperative.  For 
“when  one  is  driven  to  despair,  one  is  ready  to  fight  even 
against  sky-gods.”  There  seemed  to  he  no  alternative 
between  their  own  death  and  that  of  Atahualpa.  When 

336 


THEATRE  OF  A GREAT  TRAGEDY 

this  conclusion  was  arrived  at,  the  fate  of  the  Inca  was 
sealed. 

The  result  was  as  anticipated.  “By  one  bold  stroke,” 
writes  Prescott,  “Pizarro  broke  the  spell  which  had  so 
long  held  the  land  under  the  dominion  of  the  Incas.  The 
spell  was  broken,  and  the  airy  fabric  of  their  empire,  built 
on  the  superstition  of  ages,  vanished  at  a touch.”  1 

Regarding  the  action  of  the  Spaniards  in  thus  eliminat- 
ing from  the  scene  of  action  the  only  one  who  seemed  com- 
petent to  arrest  their  career  of  conquest,  one  can  say  with 
Helps,  “It  is  not  for  one  generation  to  comment  very 
severely  on  its  predecessors.  The  history  of  the  most  ad- 
vanced times  presents  nearly  as  much  that  is  ludicrous, 
disastrous  and  ill-considered  as  can  readily  be  met  with 
at  any  previous  period  of  the  world.”  2 

As  to  Valverde  and  Atahualpa,  who  played  such  prom- 
inent roles  in  the  great  tragedy  a few  words  will  suffice. 

Unless  history  be  entirely  at  fault  in  what  it  teaches  us 
concerning  the  learning,  the  wisdom  and  the  charity  of  the 
first  bishop  of  Cuzco,  and  his  tender  solicitude  for  the  In- 
dians of  whom  he,  like  his  illustrious  brother  Dominican, 
Las  Casas,  was  always  a zealous  and  strenuous  protector,3 
Valverde  was  very  far  from  being  the  ignorant,  cruel, 
fanatical  monk  that  has  marred  the  pages  of  certain  his- 
torians of  the  Peruvian  conquest.  Until,  therefore,  further 
and  more  reliable  evidence  is  forthcoming  in  proof  of  his 
alleged  fanatical  and  inhuman  conduct,  one  will  be,  it  seems 
to  me,  fully  justified  in  accepting  the  conclusion  of  Count 
de  Maistre  regarding  this  long-debated  question.  In  his 
Soirees  de  Saint  Petersbourg , the  learned  author,  after  a 

1 Op.  cit.,  Book  II,  Chap.  V. 

2 The  Spanish  Conquest  in  America,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  398,  London,  1902. 

3 In  a letter  to  Charles  V he  urges  the  perpetual  emancipation  of  the 

Indians  in  the  following  language : “A.  V.  M.  resentaran  alld  los  conquis- 

tadores  muchos  servieios  dandolos  por  causa  para  que  dejen  servir  S los 
indios  como  de  esclavos ; V.  M.  se  los  tiene  mui  bien  pagados  en  los  provechos 
que  han  habido  en  esta  tierra,  y no  los  ha  de  pagar  con  hacer  & sus  vasallos 
esclavos.” 


337 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


careful  study  of  the  subject,  does  not  hesitate  to  declare 
that  all  which  has  been  charged  against  Val verde  in  the 
sad  episode  which  we  have  been  considering  bears  the  in- 
trinsic marks  of  falsehood.1 

“Personal  sympathy,  of  course,  would  be  wasted  upon 
such  a blood-thirsty  wretch  as  Atahualpa.” 

In  these  few  words  Fiske  expresses  his  opinion  of  the 
ruthless  fratricide  and  sanguinary  despot,  whom  some 
writers  have  pictured  as  “a  confiding  youth  and  a gentle 
lamb,”  but  whose  death,  far  from  exciting  sorrow,  was  the 
occasion  of  rejoicing  throughout  the  empire.  So  univer- 
sally was  he  recognized  as  a bastard  usurper,  as  one  who, 
by  “a  succession  of  cruel  butcheries,  vainly  attempted  to 
exterminate  the  royal  race,”  that  he  has  never  been  ad- 
mitted by  the  Peruvians  into  the  list  of  their  Incas.  Even 
“to  this  day,”  writes  Markham,  “his  name  is  held  in  uni- 
versal abhorrence  by  the  Indians,  and  is  generally  known 
as  Aucca,  or  the  traitor.”  2 

Another  point  that  deserves  passing  notice,  in  order  to 
complete  what  has  been  said  in  preceding  chapters  regard- 
ing the  social  and  political  status  of  the  Incas,  is  the  oft- 
repeated  objection  of  those  who  have  impugned  the  Span- 
ish right  of  conquest  in  Peru. 

This  objection  might  be  answered  by  a quotation  from 
Fiske  regarding  the  conquest  of  Mexico.  “If,”  he  de- 
clares, “we  are  to  be  guided  by  strict  logic,  it  would  be 

1 Vol.  I,  p.  101,  Paris,  1854. 

2 Cuzco  and  Lima,  p.  137,  London,  1856. 

Sarmiento  in  his  History  of  the  Incas,  Chap.  LXIX,  expresses  the  same 
sentiment  when  he  declares,  that  Atahualpa  “was  a tyrant  against  the  natives 
of  this  country  and  against  his  brother  Huascar.  He  had  lived  thirty-six 
years.  He  was  not  an  Inca  of  Peru,  but  a tyrant.” 

Garcilaso,  referring  to  the  execution  of  Atahualpa,  tells  us  that  his  coun- 
trymen “said  that  the  Spaniards  had  put  the  tyrant  to  death  as  a punish- 
ment and  to  avenge  the  death  of  the  Incas,  and  that  the  god  Viracocha,  the 
father  of  the  Spaniards,  had  ordered  them  to  do  it.  This  is  the  reason  they 
called  the  first  Spaniards  by  the  name  of  Viracocha,  and  believing  they 
were  sons  of  their  god,  they  respected  them  so  much  that  they  almost  wor- 
shipped them  and  scarcely  made  any  resistance  to  the  conquest.”  Op.  cit., 
Lib.  V,  Cap.  XXI. 


338 


THEATRE  OF  A GREAT  TRAGEDY 


difficult  to  condemn  the  Spaniards  for  the  mere  act  of  con- 
quering Mexico,  without  involving  in  the  same  condemna- 
tion our  own  forefathers  who  crossed  the  ocean  and  over- 
ran the  territory  of  the  United  States  with  small  regard 
for  the  proprietary  rights  of  Algonquins,  or  Iroquois,  or 
red  men  of  any  sort.”  1 

“But,”  the  objector  urges,  “the  Children  of  the  Sun 
were  a civilized  people  and  as  such  should  have  been  left  in 
undisturbed  possession  of  their  lands  and  liberty.” 

This  is  precisely  the  question  at  issue.  Were  they  a 
civilized  people,  as  so  often  represented  by  those  who  would 
exalt  them  at  the  expense  of  their  conquerors  ? 

According  to  Las  Casas,  who  devotes  his  large  Apolo- 
getica  Historia  to  the  exaltation  of  the  virtues  and  the 
social,  political  and  economic  status  of  the  primitive  in- 
habitants of  the  New  World,  the  Indians  were  inferior  to 
none  of  the  peoples  of  the  Old  World,  and  superior  to  many 
of  them.  Considering  that  they  were  deprived  of  the  light 
of  faith  and  were  guided  only  by  reason,  and  an  innate 
sense  of  right  and  wrong,  he  declared  that  in  the  natural 
virtues  and  in  moral  excellence,  they  were  superior  to  the 
Greeks  and  Romans ; superior  even  to  the  English,  French 
and  some  of  his  own  countrymen,  while  in  many  respects 
they  were  incomparably  above  many  other  peoples.2 

From  the  view-point  of  Las  Casas,  as  is  evinced  from 
the  words  just  quoted,  the  American  Indians  were  far  less 
barbarous,  and  consequently  more  civilized,  than  many  peo- 
ples usually  regarded  as  being  in  the  fore-front  of  the 
cultured  nations  of  the  world.  As,  however,  few,  if  any, 
can  now  be  found  who  would  be  willing  to  endorse  the 
above  statements  of  the  illustrious  protector  of  the  Indians, 
even  among  those  who  have  made  the  most  vigorous  on- 

1 Ut.  sup.,  Vol.  II,  p.  291. 

2 “Sobrepujaron  tambien  ii  los  ingleses,  franceses  y algunas  gentes  de  nuestra 
Espafia,  y & otras  innumerables  fueron  tan  superiores  en  las  costumbres 
tenerlas  buenas  y carecer  de  muchas  malas,  que  no  merecieron  con  las  de 
estas  Yndias  compararse,”  p.  684. 


339 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


slaughts  on  the  Spaniards  for  their  conquest  of  a civilized 
nation  like  that  of  the  Incas,  it  becomes  necessary  to  define 
the  much-abused  words  “barbarous”  and  “civilized.” 

If  one  were  to  accept  the  premises  of  Las  Casas,  re- 
garding the  meaning  of  “barbarian”  as  explained  in  the 
last  four  chapters  of  his  Apologetica  Historia,  or  if  one 
were  to  admit,  as  well-founded,  the  statements,  so  frequently 
found  in  certain  modern  writers,1  respecting  the  brilliant 
and  superior  civilization  of  the  Children  of  the  Sun,  all  the 
conclusions  they  have  drawn  concerning  the  culture  and 
advanced  social  status  of  these  interesting  people  would 
follow  as  a logical  necessity.  But,  few  or  none,  who  have 
carefully  examined  the  conditions  that  obtained  among  the 
ancient  Peruvians  are  willing  to  admit  that  the  so-called 
civilization  of  the  Incas  was  at  all  what  men  of  science  now 
understand  by  the  word  “civilization.” 

According  to  the  criterion  now  usually  followed,  true 
civilization  begins  with  “the  invention  of  a phonetic  alpha- 
bet and  the  production  of  written  records.”  For  as  has 
been  truly  observed,  it  is  the  phonetic  alphabet,  the  ABC, 
that  is  the  “grand  achievement  of  the  human  mind,  supreme 
in  its  endless  possibilities,  the  achievement  which,  more 
than  any  other,  marks  the  boundary  line  between  barbarism 
and  civilization,  between  the  twilight  of  archaeology  and  the 
daylight  of  history.”  2 

This  standard  of  itself  excludes  the  Incas  from  the  list 
of  civilized  peoples.  Their  predecessors,  according  to 
Montesinos,  may  have  had  written  records,  and  possibly  a 
phonetic  alphabet,  but  of  this  there  is  no  certainty.  The 

1 Among  others,  J.  W.  Draper,  who  expresses  himself  as  follows : “After 

an  attentive  consideration  of  the  facts  in  the  case,  I agree  in  the  conclusion 
of  Carli  that  at  the  time  of  the  conquest  the  moral  man  in  Peru  was  superior 
to  the  European,  and,  I will  add,  the  intellectual  man  also.”  A History  of 
the  Intellectual  Development  of  Europe,  p.  464,  New  York,  1863. 

2 There  are,  however,  two  notable  exceptions  to  this  criterion : “Where 

people  acquainted  with  iron  have  enshrined  in  hieroglyphics  so  much  matter 
of  historic  record  and  literary  interest  as  the  Chinese  and  Ancient  Egyptians, 
they,  too,  must  be  classed  as  civilized.” 


340 


THEATRE  OF  A GREAT  TRAGEDY 


quipus  of  the  ancient  Peruvians  may  have  sufficed  for  keep- 
ing accounts,  but  were  as  useless  as  an  instrument  for  re- 
cording historical  events,  or  for  the  development  of  litera- 
ture, as  is  a tally-stick  or  a belt  of  Indian  wampum. 

Nay,  more.  If  we  accept  Morgan’s  definitions  of  the 
various  grades  of  culture,  as  given  in  his  Ancient  Society, 
as  do  many  eminent  thinkers,  we  shall  have  to  conclude  not 
only  that  the  Incas  had  not  attained  the  grade  of  culture 
which  can  truly  be  called  civilization,  but  also  that  they  had 
not  even  reached  the  highest  stage  of  barbarism.  For  the 
upper  status  of  barbarism  implies  a knowledge  of  smelting 
iron  ore  and  this  knowledge  was  never  attained  by  the 
ancient  Peruvians  or  by  any  of  the  other  peoples  of  abo- 
riginal America.  The  culture  status  then,  of  the  Incas  was 
that  of  the  middle  period  of  barbarism — a status  that  was 
about  midway  between  that  of  a Moqui  pueblo  and  that  of 
ancient  Troy;  a status  which,  as  has  well  been  observed, 
“spans  the  interval  between  such  a society  as  that  of 
Hiawatha  and  that  of  the  Odyssey a status  like  that  which 
obtained  among  the  earlier  Pharaohs,  among  the  lake 
dwellers  of  ancient  Switzerland  and  among  the  Mayas  and 
Aztecs  at  the  time  of  Cortes,  and  which,  “on  the  shores  of 
the  Mediterranean,  had  been  outgrown  before  the  city  of 
Rome  was  built.”  1 

Those  who  have  pinned  their  faith  to  the  gorgeous  ac- 
counts of  the  civilization  of  Peru  at  the  time  of  Pizarro 
will,  no  doubt,  be  painfully  surprised  to  learn  that  the 
Incas  were  but  “one  stage  higher  than  Mohawks,  and  one 
stage  lower  than  the  warriors  of  the  Iliad”;  that  their 
thatched  palaces  and  temples,  over  which  the  early  chron- 
iclers waxed  so  eloquent,  far  from  throwing  Mycenae  into 
the  shade  or  rivaling  the  remains  of  Cambodia,  were,  with 
a few  notable  exceptions  mentioned  in  preceding  chapters, 

i For  an  illuminating  discussion  of  this  interesting  subject,  the  reader 
may,  in  addition  to  Morgan’s  suggestive  work  on  Ancient  Society,  consult 
with  profit  Fiske’s  chapter  on  Ancient  America,  in  his  work  above  quoted. 
The  Discovery  of  America. 


341 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


no  better  than  the  adobe  and  rubble-stone  structures  of  the 
New  Mexican  pueblos. 

No,  the  Incas  were  not  civilized  in  the  proper  accepta- 
tion of  the  term.  Far  from  it.  It  is  not  certain  that  civ- 
ilization under  their  form  of  government — communistic 
despotism — was  even  possible.  They  had,  indeed,  domesti- 
cated the  llama  and  the  alpaca,  and  had  made  distinct 
progress  in  agriculture  and  irrigation,  but  they  had  no 
pastoral  society,  properly  so-called,  and  still  less  anything 
like  “the  old  patriarchal  life  on  the  plain  of  Mamre  or  by 
the  waters  of  the  Punjab.” 

There  could  be  no  progress,  because  the  development  of 
the  personal  will  of  the  subject  was  impossible.  No  effort 
on  his  part,  no  industry,  no  intelligence,  however  highly 
developed,  could  ameliorate  his  social  condition,  or  con- 
tribute to  his  advancement.  He  was  a slave  utterly  devoid 
of  energy  and  individual  initiative.  He  was  but  an  autom- 
aton, a simple  pawn  on  the  Inca’s  chessboard. 

He  had  but  a vague  idea  of  private  property  or  division 
of  labor,1  and  none  whatever  of  representative  government. 
There  was  a certain  rudimentary  nationality,  that  had  been 
developed  by  the  successors  of  Manco  Capac,  but  the  nation, 
which  was  held  together  solely  by  fear  of  the  Incas,  who 
were  by  the  great  mass  of  their  subjects  regarded  with 
superstitious  awe  as  beings  of  a superior  order  rested 
on  the  most  insecure  of  foundations.  This  is  evidenced 
by  the  fact  that  the  empire  collapsed  as  soon  as  Atahual- 
pa  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Spaniards,  and  without  the 
bloodshed  or  carnage  that  usually  attends  the  conquest 
of  a nation  as  extensive  as  that  of  the  Children  of  the 
Sun. 

i Acosta  tells  us  that  “there  were  no  particular  trades-men,  as  amongst 
us,  taylors,  shoemakers,  weavers,  and  the  rest,  but  everyone  learned  what 
was  needfull  for  their  persons  and  houses,  and  provided  for  themselves. 
All  coulde  weave  and  make  their  garments,  and  therefore  the  Ynca  by 
furnishing  them  with  wooll,  gave  them  clothes.  Every  man  could  till  the 
ground,  and  put  it  to  profite,  without  hyring  of  any  labourers.”  Op.  cit., 
Lib.  VI,  Cap.  XVI. 


342 


THEATRE  OF  A GREAT  TRAGEDY 


The  fact  is  that  the  empire  of  the  Incas,  so  often  re- 
garded as  possessing  all  the  boasted  advantages  of  Utopia, 
was  nothing  more  than  a realization  of  the  ideals  of  cer- 
tain of  our  modern  socialists  and  communists.  “It  re- 
sembled,” declared  Humboldt,  “a  great  monastic  estab- 
lishment, in  which  is  prescribed  what  each  member  shall 
do  for  the  common  weal,”  1 or,  rather,  it  was  what  Proud- 
hon in  his  Contradictions  Economiques  has  so  aptly  char- 
acterized as  “ ces  huitres  attachees  au  r ocher  de  la  f rater - 
nite” — “oysters  attached  to  the  rock  of  fraternity.” 

The  absolute  communism,  that  dominated  every  field  of 
human  endeavor,  was  the  most  striking  object  lesson  ever 
given  to  the  world  that  the  doctrine  of  perfect  equality  in 
human  society,  which  is  now  preached  by  certain  doc- 
trinaires and  enemies  of  social  progress,  is  the  veriest 
chimera.  If  the  Spaniards  had  not  put  an  end  to  this  un- 
natural system  of  government,  the  empire  of  the  Incas 
would  of  itself  soon  have  disintegrated  and  the  people 
would  have  reverted  to  a lower  stage  of  barbarism  than 
that  which  they  occupied  at  the  time  of  the  arrival  of 
Pizarro. 

Their  government,  in  spite  of  all  that  has  been  said  in 
its  favor,  was  radically  defective,  and  social  and  economic 
progress,  as  we  understand  it,  was  impossible.  They 
were,  it  is  true,  far  in  advance  of  their  Muisca  neighbors 
to  the  north,  and  far  superior  in  the  arts  of  life,  to  the 
Araucanians  of  Chile.  But  the  Araucanians,  although  in- 
comparably fewer  in  number  than  the  Incas,  were,  thanks 
to  their  superior  military  prowess,  able  to  conserve  their 
liberty,  in  spite  of  all  the  onslaughts  made  against  them 
by  Spaniard  and  Chilean,  until  the  white  man’s  whisky 
succeeded — but  only  in  recent  times — in  sapping  their  ad- 
mirable organism  and  stupefying  their  spirit  of  revolt,  and 

i Vues  des  Cordilldres  et  Monumens  de  Peuples  Indigenes  de  V Am&rique, 
p.  16,  Paris,  1810.  The  same  writer  observes  that  “The  founder  of  the 
empire  of  Cuzco,  flattering  himself  to  be  able  to  force  men  to  be  happy,  had 
reduced  them  to  the  state  of  simple  machines.”  Ibid. 


343 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


thus  effecting  what  neither  strategy  nor  gunpowder  was 
competent  to  achieve. 

In  view  of  the  preceding  facts  the  conquest  of  the  Incas 
was  justified,  if  ever  conquest  was  justified.  The  ancient 
Peruvians  may  have  attained  a certain  degree  of  culture, 
as  compared  with  the  Araucanians,  but  they  were  bar- 
barians as  compared  with  the  Spaniards.  We  can  then 
say  with  the  Vattel  in  his  Droit  des  Gens,  “The  conquest 
of  a people  is  justified  if  their  moral  and  material  condi- 
tion is  improved.” 

No  one,  who  is  familiar  with  the  facts  in  the  case,  will 
deny  that  both  these  conditions  have  been  more  than  sat- 
isfied in  Peru  by  the  Spaniards. 

They  brought  to  the  aborigines  what  the  old  Romans,  in 
the  words  of  Virgil,  called  moresque  1 viris  et  moenia — re- 
ligious culture  and  material  civilization.  They  made  Chris- 
tians of  idolaters,  freemen  of  slaves,  and  converted  savage 
and  warlike  tribes  into  the  most  peaceful  peoples  in  the 
world. 

Of  the  religion  which  effected  this  marvelous  transforma- 
tion one  could  say,  in  the  words  of  the  Venezuelan  poet, 
Andres  Bello : 

“Maestra  de  los  pueblos  y los  reyes 
Can  taste  al  hombre  las  primeras  leyes.  ” 2 

They  provided  the  Indians  with  schools  and  colleges, 
whence  issued  some  of  the  most  distinguished  representa- 
tives of  church  and  state  that  the  country  has  produced. 
Not  to  go  beyond  the  family  of  the  ill-starred  Atahualpa, 
it  will  suffice  to  mention  the  names  of  the  historian  Gfar- 
cilaso  de  la  Vega,  whose  mother  was  Isabel  Nusta  Yupan- 
qui,  a niece  of  Huayna  Capac,  and  Fernandez  Piedrahita, 
bishop  of  Panama  and  the  historian  of  New  Granada,  who 
was  the  great-grandson  of  another  niece  of  Huayna  Capac, 

1 “Mores,”  as  Conington  observes,  “conveyed  to  a Roman  many  of  the 
notions  which  political  institutions  and  a social  system  convey  to  us.” 

2 “Mistress  of  peoples  and  kings,  thou  hast  sung  to  man  superior  laws.” 

344 


THEATRE  OF  A GREAT  TRAGEDY 


Francisca  Nusta.  Both  of  these  nustas,  whose  offspring 
achieved  such  distinction,  were  first  cousins  of  Atahualpa. 

One  more  point  regarding  the  melancholy  tragedy  of 
Cajamarca,  and  I shall  bring  this  long  chapter  to  a close. 
This  point  has  reference  to  the  great  loss  of  life  that  is  said 
to  have  attended  the  capture  of  Atahualpa  and  the  subse- 
quent conquest  of  the  empire  of  the  Incas. 

According  to  Stevenson,  who  accepts  unreservedly  the 
exaggerations  of  the  early  chroniclers,  twenty  thousand 
Indians  were  massacred  on  this  occasion.  We  are  asked 
to  believe  that  each  of  the  one  hundred  and  sixty-two 
Spaniards  present  on  this  tragic  occasion  put  to  death  no 
fewer  than  one  hundred  and  twenty-three  Indians  in  the 
space  of  half  an  hour — at  the  rate  of  more  than  four  a 
minute.  Well  does  Hutchinson  characterize  the  whole 
story  as  “an  incongruity  of  Munchausenisms  and  impos- 
sibilities.” 1 

As  to  the  oft-repeated  charge  that  the  conquistadores 
were  actuated  by  uncontrollable  cupidity  and  exhibited 
every  refinement  of  cruelty  in  their  treatment  of  the  ill- 

i Two  Years  in  Peru,  Vol.  II,  p.  178. 

According  to  P.  Ricardo  Cappa,  op.  cit.,  Lib.  II,  p.  81,  the  number  of 
Indians  who  lost  their  lives  in  the  tragedy  of  Cajamarca  was  not  more  than 
three  or  four  hundred,  while  the  total  number  of  natives  who  perished  at 
the  hands  of  the  Spaniards,  until  the  complete  pacification  of  the  country, 
was  not  more  than  fifteen  or  twenty  thousand — far  fewer  than  had  fallen 
victims  to  the  ambition  of  the  blood-thirsty  usurper  Atahualpa.  Mendiburu, 
in  his  Dicoionario  Historico-Biografico  del  Peru,  Tom.  Ill,  p.  396,  puts  the 
number  of  Huasear’s  subjects  who  lost  their  lives  in  consequence  of  Ata- 
hualpa’s  fratricidal  war  at  no  less  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand. 

When  one  reads  about  the  large  armies  of  the  Incas,  and  the  immense 
numbers  of  warriors  that  met  their  death  at  the  hands  of  the  Spaniards, 
one  must  agree  with  Fiske,  when  referring  to  similar  matters  in  the  con- 
quest of  Mexico.  “Pertinent  questions,”  he  observes,  “arise  as  to  the  com- 
missariat, and  we  are  led  to  reflect  that  there  is  nothing  about  which  old 
soldiers  spin  such  unconscionable  yarns  as  about  the  size  of  the  armies 
they  have  thrashed.  In  a fairy  tale,  of  course,  such  suggestions  are  im- 
pertinent; things  can  go  on  anyhow.  In  real  life  it  is  different.  The 
trouble  with  most  historians  of  the  conquest  of  Mexico” — and  the  same  can 
be  said  of  most  historians  of  the  conquest  of  Peru — “has  been  that  they 
have  made  it  like  a fairy  tale.”  Ut.  sup.,  Vol.  I,  p.  128. 


345 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


fated  prisoner  of  the  Cajamarca  tragedy,  one  may  say,  in 
the  words  of  Quintana : 

“Su  atroz  codicia,  su  inclemente  sana 
Crimen  f ueron  del  tiempo  y no  de  Espaha.  ’ ’ 1 

i “Their  atrocious  cupidity,  their  vehement  passion,  were  crimes  of  the  age, 
and  not  of  Spain.” 


346 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 

Another  dream  of  my  life — a visit  to  Cajamarca — 
had  been  realized  and  I was  ready  to  start  on  the  second 
lap  of  my  journey  across  the  Cordilleras.  The  officer,  in 
charge  of  my  escort,  came  to  me,  and  with  a military  salute, 
said — “Senor,  todo  esta  listo” — “everything  is  ready.” 
Our  arrieros  had  gone  ahead  with  our  pack-mules  with  in- 
structions to  join  us  at  Tambo  Mayo  where  we  were  to 
spend  the  night.  I had  said  good-by  to  the  kind  friends 
who  had  made  my  sojourn  in  their  midst  so  delightful,  when 

a servant  of  Mrs.  L the  mother  of  my  host — came  to 

me  with  a large  hamper  filled  with  provisions  of  all  kinds. 

“La  Senora,”  he  said,  “dice  que  esto  es  un  poco  de  fiam- 
bre,1  para  su  viage  de  hoy” — “My  mistress  says  this  is  a 
little  snack  for  to-day’s  journey.” 

This  was  the  culmination  of  the  many  kind  attentions 
that  this  good,  thoughtful  woman  had  shown  me  during  my 
visit  to  Cajamarca.  But  the  poco  de  fiambre  was  enough 
not  for  one  day’s  journey  but  for  several.  Of  biscuits  and 
cakes — how  good  they  were ! — there  were  enough  to  last  us 
until  we  reached  Chachapoyas,  nearly  a week  later.  In- 
deed, when  I contemplated  the  liberal  provision  of  neces- 
saries that  had  been  made  by  my  friends  of  Lima  and  Ca- 
jamarca for  my  journey  across  the  mountains,  I felt  like  a 
Roman  envoy  starting  out  to  a distant  province  with  a 
bounteous  viaticum.  The  functionary  of  the  Caesars  may 
have  traveled  in  greater  state,  and  may  have  had  more 
sumptuous  lodging  and  fare  and  raiment  than  I could  com- 

i This  word  really  means  “cold  meat  preserved  for  use,”  but  is  frequently 
used  to  designate  victuals  of  all  kinds. 

347 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


mand,  but  I am  quite  sure  he  did  not  enjoy  more  genuine 
comfort  than  I did  during  my  wanderings  among  the  Cordil- 
leras, and  that  he  did  not  have  a tithe  of  the  pleasure  that 
was  mine  during  weeks  of  delightful  communion  with  Na- 
ture in  her  most  glorious  manifestations. 

The  prefect  and  his  aid,  my  host  and  a number  of  other 
good  friends  insisted  on  accompanying  me  several  miles  be- 
fore saying  Adios.  As  we  left  the  prefectura,  what  with  the 
friends  named  and  the  escort  that  was  to  accompany  me  to 
Chachapoyas,  we  formed  quite  an  imposing  cavalcade — 
such,  minus  the  military  accouterments,  as  might  have  re- 
sembled that  of  Hernando  de  Soto  and  his  companions 
when,  nearly  four  centuries  before,  they  sallied  forth  in  the 
same  direction  towards  the  camp  of  Atahualpa  the  evening 
before  that  ill-starred  chieftain’s  downfall. 

It  was  near  the  Banos  del  Inca,  where  Atahualpa  had 
his  camp  at  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards,  that 
I bade  adieu  to  the  prefect,  and  my  host  and  their  compan- 
ions, who  had  come  thus  far  to  speed  the  parting  guest  on 
his  way  to  the  distant  Amazon.  After  that  adieu,  my 
escort,  not  counting  our  arrieros  and  peons,  was  reduced 
to  four — a captain  of  cavalry,  two  subordinate  officers,  and 
a foot-soldier.  They  were  all  jolly,  good  fellows,  however, 
and  to  them  I owed  it  that  I was  able  to  make  the  long  jour- 
ney through  Andean  wilds  with  the  minimum  of  fatigue 
and  the  maximum  of  comfort  and  pleasure. 

The  Banos  del  Inca  soon  passed  from  view,  and  shortly 
after  that  we  found  ourselves  ascending  the  picturesque 
sierra  that  borders  the  eastern  part  of  the  valley  of  Ca- 
jamarca.  As  we  neared  the  crest  of  this  lofty  mountain 
chain,  I faced  about  to  get  a last  view  of  the  city  of 
Atahualpa,  and  of  the  lovely  plain  that  is  its  joy  and  its 
treasure.  It  was  indeed  a beautiful  vista — more  beautiful 
even  than  that  which  had  burst  upon  my  eyes  when  I caught 
the  first  view  of  this  historic  place  on  my  way  from  the 
Pacific. 

Our  first  day’s  journey  was  in  every  way  pleasant  but 

348 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 


quite  uneventful.  The  road  was  only  a mountain  trail,  but 
it  was  not  bad.  We  passed  a goodly  number  of  people  on 
the  way — mostly  cholos  and  Indians  going  to  Cajamarca — 
but  the  country  traversed  was  comparatively  uninhabited. 

We  arrived  at  the  town  of  Tambo  Mayo  at  three  o’clock 
in  the  afternoon  and  went  directly  to  the  governor’s  house, 
where  we  were  expected  and  where  we  were  accorded  the 
most  courteous  reception  and  the  most  generous  hospital- 
ity. I had  a special  reason  for  spending  the  night  at  this 
place  instead  of  going  farther  ahead,  as  I might  have  done. 
The  reason  was  that  I had  been  warned  to  avoid  it  as  dan- 
gerous. “Whatever  you  do,”  I was  told  before  leaving 
Lima,  “don’t  stop  at  Tambo  Mayo.  It  is  a haunt  of  rob- 
bers and  cutthroats,  and  the  sooner  you  leave  it  behind 
you  the  better.” 

I had  frequently  received  similar  warnings  regarding 
other  places  in  South  America,  but  I was  always  glad  that 
I gave  no  heed  to  them,  for  not  in  a single  instance,  so  far 
as  I could  discover,  was  there  any  justification  for  the 
warning  given.  It  was  the  same  in  the  case  of  Tambo 
Mayo.  The  people  could  not  have  been  kinder  or  more  hos- 
pitable than  they  were,  and,  had  I not  spent  a good  part  of 
a day  in  their  midst,  I should  have  deprived  myself  of  one 
of  the  most  enjoyable  experiences  of  my  trip.  I then  once 
again  realized  the  truth  of  the  old  saw,  “Give  a dog  a bad 
name  and  hang  him.” 

It  seems  that  a quarter  of  a century  before,  during  the 
unsettled  state  of  the  country  consequent  on  the  war  with 
Chile,  someone  had  been  robbed  or  murdered  in  Tambo 
Mayo — although  I could  not  verify  the  fact — and  ever 
since  that  time  the  place  has  been  looked  at  askance  by 
travelers  or  avoided  entirely,  and  innocent  people  have  for 
many  long  years  been  made  to  bear  obloquy  and  oppro- 
brium for  that  for  which  probably  they  were  not  even  in- 
directly responsible. 

We  were  no  sooner  installed  in  a large  and  comfortable 
room  in  the  governor’s  house,  than  many  busy  hands  were 

349 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


at  work  on  batan  and  around  the  here  1 preparing  our  even- 
ing repast.  Tlie  fatted  lamb,  in  anticipation  of  our  arrival, 
had  been  killed,  not  metaphorically  but  actually,  and  soon 
the  table  was  loaded  with  the  various  dishes  which  the  Pe- 
ruvian cook  knows  so  well  how  to  prepare. 

There  were  chupe  and  puchero  and  various  picantes,  not 
to  mention  many  kinds  of  fruits  and  dulces — sweets. 

Chupe,  to  the  Peruvian,  is  what  sancocho  is  to  the  Colom- 
bian and  Venezuelan,  what  rice  is  to  the  Chinaman,  and 
macaroni  is  to  the  Italian — the  staff  of  life.  When  our 
arrieros  and  peons  were  liberally  supplied  with  chupe, 
everything  went  on  well,  and  they  were  as  happy  as  the 
day  was  long.  If  with  this  they  could  have  an  occasional 
draught  of  chicha  or  aguardiente,  so  much  the  better.  They 
would  then  give  willing  service  day  and  night  and  never 
complain  of  long  hours  or  over  work. 

A puchero  is  a much  more  elaborate  dish  than  chupe, 
and  in  composition,  is  not  unlike  a Spanish  olla  podrida, 
such  as  Sancho  Panza  craved  when,  as  governor  of  Bara- 
taria,  he  could  get  nothing  more  than  a taste  of  the  unsub- 
stantial delicacies  with  which  he  was  tantalized. 

“To  make  a puchero  according  to  strict  gastronomic 
rules,”  writes  Fuentes  in  his  interesting  work  on  Lima, 
“put  in  a kettle  a large  piece  of  beef  or  mutton,  some  cab- 
bage, sweet  potatoes,  salt  pork,  sausage  meat,  pigs’  feet, 
yuccas,  bananas,  quinces,  peas  and  rice  with  anotto  and  salt 
for  seasoning.  Add  a sufficient  quantity  of  water,  and  let 
the  whole  stew  gently  for  five  or  six  hours,  then  serve  in  a 
tureen  or  deep  dish.”  2 

The  puchero,  which  was  placed  before  us  by  our  hostess 

1 The  batan  of  Bolivia  and  Peru,  corresponding  to  the  metate  of  Mexico, 
is  a smooth  stone  slab  together  with  a crescent-shaped  crusher  of  the  same 
material,  used  for  grinding  maize,  coffee,  aji,  and  achote.  The  here  is  a 
clay  hearth,  without  a flue  or  chimney,  provided  with  a firehole  and  one 
or  more  apertures  over  which  cooking  vessels  are  placed.  It  is  an  improve- 
ment on  the  tulpa,  consisting  of  only  three  stones  eight  or  ten  inches  in 
diameter,  found  in  all  parts  of  the  tropics. 

2 Lima,  p.  122,  London,  1866. 


350 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 

at  Tambo  Mayo  did  not,  so  far  as  I could  judge,  contain  all 
the  ingredients  above  mentioned,  but  it  was  certainly  a 
most  substantial  dish,  and  was  as  palatable  as  it  was  sub- 
stantial. It  was,  of  course,  duly  seasoned,  with  aji — red 
pepper — without  which  it  would  have  been  considered  very 
unsavory  if  not  unfit  to  be  served.  As  served,  however,  it 
was  pronounced  excellent — muy  sabroso — by  all  our  party, 
and  the  cooks  were  made  happy  by  knowing  that  their 
culinary  efforts  in  our  behalf  were  duly  appreciated. 
Truth  to  tell,  it  was  just  the  dish  designed  to  appease  the 
cravings  of  the  stomach  of  the  weary  traveler  after  a long 
journey  in  the  light,  crisp  atmosphere  of  the  mountains. 

Any  one  but  a gormand  would  have  been  quite  satisfied 
with  a dish  of  puchero,  but  not  so  the  members  of  my  es- 
cort. The  rich  and  abundant  puchero  but  whetted  their 
appetites  for  the  picantes  which  were  next  in  order. 

There  was  calapulcra — a mixture  of  hashed  meat  and 
potatoes;  lagua — a compound  of  pork  and  corn  meal;  and 
the  picante  de  ullucos,  made  of  a native  root  that  somewhat 
resembles  the  potato.  All  picantes  are  distinguished  by 
their  red  color  and  the  large  amount  of  red  pepper — chile 
Colorado — used  in  their  preparation.  Some  of  the  dishes 
served  us  were  given  a bright  vermilion  tint  by  the  liberal 
use  of  achote  grains.  After  the  picantes  came  a peculiar 
fruit  salad,  a heterogeneous  mixture  of  several  kinds  of 
fruits  stewed  in  water. 

All  the  foregoing  creations  of  the  culinary  art — and  none 
of  them  were  allowed  to  pass  by  untouched  by  my  hungry 
companions — were  topped  off  by  divers  kinds  of  dulces. 
How  any  of  them  were  able  to  sleep  after  thus  overcharging 
their  stomachs  I cannot  imagine.  Some  of  them,  I learned 
the  next  morning,  suffered  greatly  from  nightmare  and  I 
observed,  on  the  following  day,  as  I had  on  many  previous 
occasions,  that  the  heaviest  eaters  were  far  from  being  the 
best  travelers.  Indigestion  is  always  the  penalty  of  gor- 
ging, but  the  penalty  following  an  outraged  stomach  is  man- 
ifested sooner  in  the  mountains  than  elsewhere. 

351 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


From  Tambo  Mayo,  of  which  I shall  always  retain  a 
pleasant  memory,  we  started  betimes  the  next  morning  for 
Celendin,  an  important  town  some  thirty  odd  miles  distant. 
Our  path  was  over  a high  mountain-range,  described  by 
Grarcilaso  as  that  inaccessible  snowy  chain  that  was  un- 
trodden by  man  or  animal  or  bird,  and  which,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  Incas,  was  known  as  Ritisuyu — the  line  of 
snow.1  I was  told  that  I should  find  it  extremely  cold  at 
the  summit  of  the  sierra  and  our  arrieros  spoke  of  the 
cumbre,  as  we  should  speak  of  a frigid  pass  within  the 
Arctic  circle. 

After  a steep  climb  of  three  hours,  we  were  on  the  highest 
point  of  the  much  dreaded  puna — a place  which  bears  the 
name  of  Puna-pishg o-guayuna — the  cold  place  where  the 
birds  die.  But  so  far  was  the  place  from  deserving  this 
epithet  that  I saw  hundreds  of  birds  of  various  species, 
some  of  them  charming  songsters,  on  the  very  crest  of  the 
sierra.  And  there  were  no  wintry  blasts  as  I had  been 
led  to  anticipate,  nor  was  there  even  a trace  of  snow.  Far 
from  it!  There  were  verdure  and  flowers  to  the  highest 
point  of  the  cumbre,  and  the  lowest  temperature  registered 
by  my  thermometer  was  only  46°  F. — but  two  degrees 
below  the  lowest  point  indicated  by  the  mercury  when  I 
passed  the  crest  of  Suma  Paz  in  Colombia. 

My  barometer  indicated  an  altitude  of  eleven  thousand 
and  eight  hundred  feet,2  but  so  gradual  had  been  our 
ascent  from  the  Pacific  that  the  elevation  produced  no  per- 
ceptible effect  on  the  respiration.  As  to  temperature,  it 
did  not  appear  to  me  to  be  lower  than  that  of  an  average 
October  day  in  New  England.  And  yet  our  arrieros  and 
peons  shivered  and  complained  of  the  cold,  and  made  haste 
to  get  to  a lower  altitude.  But  I was  not  surprised  at  this. 
I had  often  witnessed  the  same  sensitiveness  on  the  part 

1 “Aquella  nunca  jamas  pisada  de  hombres,  ni  de  animales,  ni  de  aves, 
inaccesible  cordillera  de  nuves,  que  corre  desde  Santa  Marta,  hasta  el  Estrecho 
de  Magallanes,  que  los  Indios  llaman  Ritisuyu,  que  es  vanda  de  nieve.”  Op. 
cit.,  Lib.  I,  Cap.  VIII. 

2 Middendorf  makes  tbe  altitude  nearly  two  hundred  feet  higher. 

352 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 


of  my  peons  to  slight  changes  of  temperature  in  other  parts 
of  the  Cordilleras.  One  reason  of  this  sensitiveness  is  that 
they  are  poorly  clad,  and  often  half  famished.  Another, 
and  probably  more  potent  reason,  is  that  the  inhabitants 
of  the  tropics  are  far  more  sensitive  to  slight  changes  of 
temperature  than  are  the  people  of  higher  latitudes.  And 
one  need  not  be  in  the  equatorial  regions  long  before  one 
finds  oneself  affected  in  the  same  way  as  the  natives  in 
passing  from  tierra  caliente  to  tierra  fria,  or  vice  versa. 

About  an  hour’s  ride  down  the  eastern  slope  of  the  sierra, 
we  stopped  at  a little  choza — hut — for  breakfast.  This 
humble  habitation,  not  more  than  ten  feet  square,  and  so 
low  that  we  could  scarcely  stand  up  in  it,  was  the  home  of 
a young  widow  with  six  children.  Her  husband,  a half- 
caste  like  herself,  had  died  the  preceding  year,  and  she  was 
left  alone  with  her  large  and  helpless  family  on  this  bleak 
and  inhospitable  puna.  And  yet  she  did  not  complain.  On 
the  contrary,  she  and  her  little  ones  seemed  to  be  quite 
cheerful  and  to  enjoy  life  after  a fashion.  She  managed  to 
eke  out  an  existence  and  support  those  dependent  on  her 
by  selling  chicha,  eggs  and  chickens,  to  the  passer-by,  but 
how  they  could  all  find  breathing  room  in  their  little  hovel, 
which  also  afforded  shelter  for  a number  of  dogs  and  a 
score  of  cuyes — guinea-pigs — 1 was  a mystery  to  me. 

It  was  here  that  I was  specially  grateful  for  the 

hamper  that  Sra.  L had  so  kindly  provided  me  with 

on  leaving  Cajamarca.  Among  its  contents,  besides  a lib- 
eral supply  of  bread  and  fowl,  were  some  delicious  bis- 
cuits, fruitcakes  and  dulces.  The  cakes  and  dulces  I dis- 
tributed among  the  children  of  my  hostess,  and  it  was  a 
delight  to  see  how  much  the  little  creatures  enjoyed  their 
unexpected  feast.  It  was  probably  the  first  time  they  ever 
had  such  delicacies  and  they  were,  for  the  time  being,  the 

1 An  indigenous  animal,  called  cuy  in  Peru,  and  conejo — rabbit — in  Bolivia. 
Before  the  conquest,  it  was  much  used  in  sacrifice  and  divining.  “El  Sac- 
rificio  ordinario,”  Padre  Arriaga  informs  us,  “es  de  Cuyes  de  los  cuales  se 
sirven  mal,  no  solo  para  saerificios,  sino  para  adivinar  por  ellos  con  mil 
embustes.”  Extirpation  de  la  Ydolatria  del  Peru.  Cap.  Ill,  Lima,  1621. 

353 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


happiest  children  in  the  sierra.  Their  isolated  condition 
and  cheerless  surroundings  were  forgotten  in  the  joy  of  the 
moment,  and  they  snuggled  together  around  the  passing 
stranger  as  if  he  had  been  a life-long  friend. 

When  luncheon  was  over  and  we  prepared  to  renew  our 
journey  the  little  tots  were  loath  to  let  me  proceed.  They 
clung  to  me  and  begged  me  not  to  leave  them.  “Quedese 
con  nosotros,  Senor,”  said  the  oldest  of  the  children,  a 
sweet  little  girl  about  ten  years  of  age.  “ A qui  esta,  su 
casa,” — “Stay  with  us,  sir;  here  is  your  home,”  and  she 
pointed  to  the  little  wattled  ichu-thatched  chosita,  where 
we  had  taken  our  noonday  repast. 

Dear,  innocent  children,  how  my  heart  went  out  to  them, 
as  I took  my  leave  of  them,  and  to  their  good,  brave  little 
mother,  whose  touching  words  Adiosito  pues,  hijito,1  were 
both  a farewell  and  a benediction,  whose  accents  were  as 
music  in  my  ears  for  days  afterwards.  What  Stevenson 
wrote  of  the  Polynesians  could  with  truth  be  reiterated  of 
the  simple  good  Indians  and  mestizos  of  the  Peruvian  Cor- 
dilleras— “They  are  easy  folk  to  get  in  touch  with,  frank, 
fond  of  notice,  greedy  of  the  least  affection,  like  amiable 
fawning  dogs.”  2 

We  arrived  at  Celendin  at  four  o’clock  in  the  afternoon, 
having  made  far  better  time  than  we  anticipated,  consider- 
ing the  rough  mountain  trail  over  which  we  were  obliged 
to  travel.  Our  speed  was  due  to  the  splendid  mounts  that 
had  been  provided  for  us  by  the  generous  prefect  of 
Cajamarca.  With  ordinary  animals,  we  should  not  have 
reached  our  destination  until  after  nightfall. 

We  were  most  cordially  welcomed  by  the  sub-prefect  of 
Celendin,  who  had  been  advised  of  our  coming  by  one  of  our 
Cajamarca  friends.  He  at  once  conducted  us  to  the  com- 

i Both  diminutives  in  this  phrase  are  terms  of  affection  and  endearment, 
such  as  are  frequently  used  by  the  people  of  Peru.  The  meaning  is,  “To 
the  dear,  good  God,  then,  my  own  little  son.”  These  words  were  a mother’s 
recognition  of  a little  kindness  shown  to  her  darling  children.  I need  not 
say  that  I felt  richly  rewarded. 

- The  South  Seas,  p.  7,  New  York,  1906. 

354 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 

fortable  lodgings  that  had  been  prepared  for  us,  and  then, 
learning  that  it  was  our  desire  to  proceed  on  our  journey  the 
following  morning,  he  lost  no  time  in  showing  us  the  chief 
objects  of  interest  in  the  city. 

Celendin,  although  little  more  than  a century  old,  having 
been  founded  in  1802,  counts  about  four  thousand  inhab- 
itants, most  of  whom  are  engaged  in  agriculture,  stock- 
raising  and  in  the  manufacture  of  the  so-called  Panama  hats, 
for  which  the  place  is  quite  famous.  Indeed,  the  people  of 
Celendin  boast  of  making  the  best  hats  in  the  republic, 
but  the  inhabitants  of  Eioja  and  Moyobamba  contend  that 
the  hats  manufactured  in  their  towns  are  far  superior  to 
anything  that  is  produced  in  Celendin. 

The  material  of  which  the  Celendin  hats  are  made  is 
brought  from  the  eastern  versant  of  the  Andes  on  the  backs 
of  mules  and  donkeys,  and  a very  large  supply  of  it  is  re- 
quired to  meet  the  demand.  The  hats  that  are  shipped  to 
Europe  and  the  United  States  usually  reach  the  market  by 
way  of  Panama,  and  hence  the  name  of  “Panama  hats,” 
by  which  they  have  so  long  been  known. 

When  I arose  the  following  morning,  I found  a crowd 
of  sick  people  at  my  door  waiting  to  see  “The  Doctor.” 
They  had  heard  someone  address  me  as  Seiior  Doctor , and 
concluded  at  once  that  I was  a physician  or  surgeon,  or 
both.  All  the  lame  and  halt  and  afflicted  in  the  town  had 
gathered  in  front  of  my  lodging  and  patiently  awaited  my 
appearance.  As  there  was  no  doctor  nearer  than  Caja- 
marca,  the  poor  people  looked  upon  my  arrival  as  provi- 
dential, and  flocked  around  me  in  the  firm  hope  of  receiving 
relief  from  their  divers  infirmities. 

When  I was  apprised  of  the  peculiar  condition  of  things, 
I had  not  the  heart  to  undeceive  the  poor  sufferers  who 
had  flocked  to  me  for  assistance.  I accordingly  brought 
my  medicine  case  into  requisition  and  wrote  out  prescrip- 
tions according  to  the  needs  of  my  unexpected  patients. 
I was  glad  there  were  no  laws  in  force  against  practicing 
without  a license,  and  glad,  too,  that  I happened  to  have 

355 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


just  the  medicines  that  were  required  by  the  ailments  I was 
called  upon  to  treat.  If  all  did  not  find  relief  from  my  pre- 
scriptions, I am  sure  none  of  them  suffered  any  harm. 
Among  my  patients  was  a nonagenarian,  who  was  slowly 
dying  of  old  age,  without  apparently  being  aware  of  the 
fact.  The  poor  man  begged  for  a prescription  for  some 
imaginary  trouble,  and,  as  I did  not  wish  to  tell  him  that 
his  case  was  hopeless,  and  that  I could  do  nothing  for  him, 
I gave  him  a half  pint  bottle  of  salt  water,  slightly  colored 
with  a little  claret,  and  labeled,  R|  Sodii  Chloridi  3i.  Vini 
Rubri  §i.  Aq.  qs.  dd.  §iii.  The  viejecito — the  dear  old  man 
— as  his  neighbors  called  him,  went  away  rejoicing,  and  if 
imagination  and  suggestion  availed  anything,  I am  sure 
he  felt  at  least  a temporary  relief  from  his  fancied  disorder. 

As  at  Cajamarca,  so  likewise  at  Celendin,  a party  com- 
posed of  the  sub-prefect  and  a number  of  others,  accom- 
panied me  some  miles  on  the  way  to  my  stopping  place 
for  the  night,  which,  in  this  instance,  was  the  little  pueblo 
of  Balsas  on  the  east  bank  of  the  Maranon.  When  the 
time  of  parting  came,  and  the  usual  words  of  “farewell” 
had  been  pronounced,  the  sub-prefect,  who  was  the  per- 
sonification of  courtesy  and  kindness,  clasped  my  hand 
warmly  and  said,  “ Hast  a otra  vista;  en  mi  Ud  tiene  un 
amigo ” — “Until  we  meet  again;  in  me  you  have  a friend.” 

The  magic  effect  of  a kind  word!  No  one  can  realize  it 
so  well  as  the  traveler  in  a strange  land,  and  among  a peo- 
ple on  whose  attention  he  has  no  claim.  But  how  often  did 
I not  have  reason  to  make  this  reflection  during  my  wander- 
ings in  Peru,  where  everyone,  from  the  humblest  Indian 
to  the  noblest  scion  of  a Spanish  grandee,  was  ever  ready 
to  perform  acts  of  kindness  and  shower  favors  upon  me 
when  least  expected? 

Shortly  after  leaving  the  sub-prefect  and  his  friend,  we 
began  the  ascent  of  another  mountain  range — the  sierra 
that  borders  the  west  bank  of  the  Maranon.  We  had  spent 
nearly  two  hours  in  laboriously  scaling  the  precipitous  flank 
of  the  sierra  when,  before  I expected  it,  we  were  standing 

356 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 


on  the  cwmbre  nearly  ten  thousand  feet  above  sea  level. 
And,  before  I had  time  to  view  the  prospect  before  me, 
one  of  my  escort,  who  was  familiar  with  this  part  of  the 
country,  pointing  his  finger  to  the  eastward,  exclaimed, 
“Alii  esta  el  Mar  anon” — “There  is  the  Maranon!” 

And  so  it  was.  At  the  bottom  of  a mighty  gorge  executed 
in  hard,  metamorphic  rock,  by  titanic  forces  acting 
through  untold  aeons,  was  the  famous  father  of  waters  that 
I had  so  longed  to  see,  and  the  first  glimpse  of  which  I had 
looked  forward  to  with  such  eager  anticipation.  From 
where  we  stood  it  seemed  like  a narrow,  luminous  band,  and 
was  far  from  resembling  the  broad  river  that  fancy  had 
pictured.  And  so  bright  was  the  sun,  and  so  clear  was 
the  atmosphere  that  the  bounding  current  appeared  to  be 
but  a stone’s  throw  from  the  position  we  then  occupied. 
For  similar  reasons,  the  opposite  side  of  the  stupendous 
channel  seemed  to  be  within  reach  of  a gunshot.  But  long 
familiarity  with  the  mountains  had  taught  me  that  noth- 
ing is  more  deceptive  than  distance  in  a diaphanous  atmos- 
phere, with  gigantic  objects  in  the  field  of  view.  And  the 
sequel  will  show  that  I was  not  mistaken. 

Lieutenant  Maw,  of  the  British  navy,  who  was  the  first 
Englishman  to  cross  the  continent  by  way  of  the  Amazon, 
was  so  enthusiastic  about  the  view  which  greets  the  traveler 
at  the  point  where  we  first  saw  the  Maranon — the  name 
given  the  upper  Amazon — that  he  writes:  “I  cannot  con- 
ceive that  anything  on  earth  or  water  could  exceed  the 
grandeur  of  the  scenery,  nor  do  I believe  any  person  ca- 
pable of  describing  it  justly.”  1 

The  scenery  is  indeed  magnificent,  and  no  one  can  con- 
template it  without  being  deeply  impressed.  The  gorge  of 
the  Maranon  does  not,  it  is  true,  exhibit  the  superb  coloring 
that  distinguishes  the  noted  canon  of  the  Yellowstone,  nor 
the  precipitous  cliffs  which  characterize  the  Grand  Canon 

1 Journal  of  a Passage  from  the  Pacific  to  the  Atlantic,  crossing  the  Andes 
in  the  Northern  Provinces  of  Pern,  and  describing  the  River  Maranon  oi' 
Amazon,  p.  45,  London,  1829. 


357 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


of  the  Colorado,  but  it  is,  in  many  respects,  more  imposing, 
and  excites  emotions  that  neither  of  the  other  marvels  of 
nature  is  competent  to  inspire.  The  quebrada  of  the 
Maranon  is  much  deeper  than  the  great  canon  of  the  Colo- 
rado river,  although  the  latter  channel  is  so  deep  that,  if  Mt. 
Washington  were  placed  in  it,  its  summit  would  be  a thou- 
sand feet  below  the  upper  brink  of  the  canon. 

When  I first  saw  the  Maranon,  the  sun  had  so  far  de- 
clined that  the  western  side  of  the  gorge  lay  in  a shadow 
that  here  and  there  was  intensified  by  dark  bushes  and 
clumps  of  trees  laden  with  myriads  of  orchids  and  epiphytes, 
some  a mass  of  vari-colored  foliage,  others  floral  clusters  of 
richest  bloom.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  the  warm 
light  of  the  tropic  sun  fell  on  broad  stretches  of  multi- 
colored rock,  which,  in  the  distance,  looked  like  rare  old 
tapestries  that  Nature’s  cunning  hand  had  spread  over 
ravines  and  hung  from  precipices.  There  was  an  endless 
series  of  curiously  carved  peaks  and  buttresses,  of  pictur- 
esque glens  and  rising  vales,  over  which  the  color  ran  in 
countless  modulations  of  pearl  and  rose,  of  saffron  and 
olive,  of  lazuli  and  sapphire.  Below  the  landscape  was 
suffused  with  vague  hues  of  varying  intensity ; above  were 
shadows  of  gathering  cloud-flecks  that  scurried  across  the 
azure  canopy  of  the  sky.  But  along  the  distant  sky-line 
cloud  and  rock  were  confounded  and  the  whole  landscape 
shimmered  before  us  like  some  magic  phantasmagoria,  that 
had  been  prepared  for  our  entertainment  by  the  genius  of 
the  Maranon. 

We  lingered  long  in  the  contemplation  of  this  marvelous 
picture  of  scenic  splendor,  and  experienced  the  same  ex- 
quisite pleasure  as  must  have  thrilled  the  bosom  of  the 
conquistadores  when  their  eyes  first  rested  on  this  greatest 
of  rivers.  But,  like  all  first  experiences,  our  emotion  on 
beholding  the  Maranon  was  something  that  can  never  be 
repeated.  It  was  like  a first  love  that  touched  a virginity 
of  sense — something  unique,  ineffable. 

Our  ecstasy  was  broken  by  the  words  of  our  arriero  who, 

358 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 


fearing  that  darkness  would  overtake  ns  before  we  should 
reach  our  destination,  cried  out,  “Vamonos,  Senores,  hay 
mucha  bajada” — “It  is  time  to  go,  gentlemen,  there  is  a 
long  and  steep  declivity  to  descend.” 

He  was  right,  and  it  was  well  that  he  called  us  from  our 
fine,  careless  rapture,  or  we  should  have  been  obliged  to 
spend  the  night  d la  belle  etoile  somewhere  on  the  pre- 
cipitous slope  of  the  deep  gorge  we  were  about  to  enter. 
I knew  that  we  had  a long  tiresome  ride  before  us,  but, 
notwithstanding  all  my  experiences  in  mountaineering,  my 
judgment  respecting  time  and  distance  was,  in  this  instance, 
completely  at  fault. 

The  descent  of  Quita-Sol,  the  day  before  our  arrival  at 
Cajamarca,  had  been  arduous  enough  both  for  man  and 
beast,  but  it  was  easy  in  comparison  with  what  we  had  to 
endure  in  this  bajada  of  the  Maranon.  Hour  after  hour 
we  continued  on  the  steep,  zigzag  trail  without  apparently 
making  any  progress.  The  river  below  seemed  to  make 
sport  of  our  efforts  to  reach  it  and  appeared  to  recede  from 
us  as  we  approached.  Even  after  riding  several  hours, 
we  seemed  to  be  no  nearer  our  goal  than  when  we  started. 
Presently  the  sun  had  reached  the  crest  of  the  sierra  in 
front  of  us  and  then  darkness  came  on  apace.  Fortunately, 
the  clouds  that  threatened  to  make  further  progress  im- 
possible, soon  vanished,  and  the  moon  and  stars  appeared 
with  unwonted  brilliancy.  This  was  something,  but  at 
times  their  kindly  light  was  cut  off  from  us  by  overhang- 
ing cliffs  or  narrow,  deep  ravines,  through  which  our  mules 
felt  their  way,  as  if  their  nimble  feet  were  endowed  with 
a peculiar  sixth  sense  denied  to  mortals.  Our  feelings 
were,  then,  I think,  akin  to  Dante’s  while  groping  his  way 
down  the  treacherous  and  dismal  slopes  of  Malebolge,  or 
to  those  of  JEneas  when  he  and  Cumsean  Sibyl 

“Ibant  obscuri  sola  sub  nocte  per  umbras”  1 

i “Through  shadows,  through  the  lonely  night  they  went.” 

359" 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


in  quest  of  tlie  shade  of  Anchises  in  the  realms  of  Dis. 

Never  before  did  I so  long  for  light  as  during  this  fear- 
some journey  in  the  deepening  gloom,  and  when,  finally, 
we  emerged  from  the  obscure  chasm,  through  which  we  had 
perforce  to  pass,  and  were  again  in  view  of  the  beneficent 
queen  of  night,  I instinctively  broke  forth  into  Newman’s 
beautiful  words, 

“Lead,  kindly  Light,  amid  the  encircling  gloom, 

Lead  Thou  me  on ! 

The  night  is  dark,  and  I am  far  from  home — 

Lead  Thou  me  on ! 

Keep  Thou  my  feet;  I do  not  ask  to  see 

The  distant  scene, — one  step  enough  for  me.” 

At  length,  however,  we  were  at  the  bottom  of  the  gorge. 
Before  us  was  the  Maranon  and  hard  by  was  a steel  sus- 
pension bridge  recently  erected,  that  spanned  its  impetuous 
waters.  The  bridge  was  soon  crossed  and  a short  time 
afterwards  we  were  before  the  governor’s  house  in  Balsas. 
We  were  nearly  a mile  and  a half  lower  than  when  we 
began  our  descent  into  the  gorge,  and  the  little  pueblo  that 
seemed  but  a stone’s  throw  from  the  precipice,  whence  we 
caught  our  first  view  of  the  river,  was  reached  only  after 
eight  hours  of  hard,  continuous  riding. 

Both  men  and  animals  were  tired  and  hungry,  but,  as  the 
sub-prefect  had  telegraphed  the  governor  announcing  our 
arrival,  we  had  reason  to  believe  that  he  would  be  prepared 
to  receive  us.  But  he  was  not  at  home,  and  the  telegram, 
which  had  been  sent  him  was,  for  some  unaccountable 
reason,  delayed  in  transmission,  as  often  happens  in  our 
own  country,  where  the  telegraph  is  sometimes  no  speedier 
than  our  district  messenger  boy. 

But,  as  luck  would  have  it,  the  local  telegrapher  was 
present  and,  recognizing  our  necessities,  at  once  kindly  put 
the  telegraph  office — a large  and  commodious  building — 
at  our  disposition.  Without  delay  he  ordered  grass  to  be 
brought  for  our  tired  mules,  and  in  a few  moments  more  he 

360 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 


had  several  bright,  young  Indian  women  preparing  our 
evening  meal.  Had  I not  had  frequent  evidence  before  of 
their  culinary  skill,  I should  have  expected  to  remain  fast- 
ing for  at  least  an  hour  or  two  after  our  arrival.  But 
scarcely  had  we  finished  the  ablutions,  which  our  long, 
dusty  journey  rendered  imperative,  than  we  found  a well- 
prepared  and  substantial  repast  awaiting  us.  Needless  to 
say  all  did  full  justice  to  it,  and  not  long  after  were  sleep- 
ing as  soundly  as  if  couched  in  the  palace  of  the  god  of 
dreams. 

We  were  in  the  saddle  earlier  than  usual  the  next  morn- 
ing, as  we  had  a long  ride  ahead  of  us  before  reaching 
Tambo  Viejo,  where  we  purposed  spending  the  night. 
After  skirting  the  Maranon  for  a short  distance,  we  de- 
flected to  the  right  and  followed  a small  stream  that  had 
its  source  in  the  mountains  to  the  east  of  the  river.  Dur- 
ing the  early  part  of  the  day,  owing  to  our  comparatively 
low  elevation,  it  was  quite  warm,  and  in  marked  contrast 
to  the  temperature  of  the  mountain  heights.  But,  as  we 
continued  our  climb  up  the  precipitous  slope,  which  rises 
above  the  eastern  bank  of  the  Maranon,  the  mercury 
gradually  dropped  until  the  temperature  was  quite 
agreeable. 

Outside  of  the  agave  and  various  species  of  cactus,  con- 
spicuous among  which  were  splendid  specimens  of  the 
large  candelabrum  cactus,  there  was  little  vegetation,  and 
the  region  through  which  we  passed,  except  along  the  water- 
courses, was  almost  treeless.  But  the  landscape  was  not, 
therefore,  without  interest.  The  various  rock  formations, 
the  curiously  tilted  and  contorted  strata,  the  effects  of 
long  continued  erosion,  were  quite  sufficient  to  keep  the 
mind  occupied,  and  to  supply  it  with  matter  for  specula- 
tion. A professional  geologist  would  have  reveled  in  the 
scenes  that  defiled  before  us  on  our  long  way  up  the  moun- 
tain, and  he  would  have  found  himself  at  every  turn  pro- 
pounding new  theories  to  account  for  the  strange  phe- 
nomena that  unceasingly  arrest  one’s  attention. 

361 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


After  twelve  hours  of  uninterrupted  riding  we  arrived  at 
Tambo  Viejo,  which,  as  we  stood  on  the  western  side  of 
the  gorge  the  day  before,  seemed  but  a gunshot  distant. 
And  yet  to  traverse  the  distance  between  the  two  points 
necessitated  twenty  arduous  hours  in  the  saddle.  But  this 
is  not  all.  Near  the  crest  of  a mountain  to  the  eastward, 
which  we  saw  the  day  before,  and  which  seemed  to  over- 
hang Tambo  Viejo,  stands  Chachapoyas,  whither  we  were 
bound  on  our  way  to  Moyobamba.  But  near  as  it  then 
appeared,  and  notwithstanding  our  twenty  hours’  ride  to- 
wards it,  it  was  still  three  long  days’  journey  to  the  east  of 
Tambo  Viejo.  Thus  deceptive  are  distances  in  the  diaph- 
anous atmosphere  of  the  Cordilleras. 

Tambo  Viejo — the  old  tambo — is  nothing  more  than  a 
shed  where  travelers  may  find  shelter  from  the  rain. 
There  is  not  a single  human  habitation  within  miles  of  it 
where  provisions  can  be  procured.  We  were  now  enter- 
ing the  part  of  the  country  where  the  traveler  must  depend 
on  such  food  supplies  as  he  may  have  brought  with  him. 
Thanks,  however,  to  our  Cajamarca  friends,  we  were  well 
provided  for,  not  to  speak  of  the  stores  which  we  had 
brought  with  us  from  Lima. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  tambo,  it  was  empty,  and  we 
prepared  to  make  it  our  resting  place  for  the  night.  But 
scarcely  had  the  necessary  preparations  been  made,  when 
a large  party  of  men,  women  and  children,  among  whom 
was  a family  on  their  way  from  Lima  to  Chachapoyas, 
came  along.  As  the  tambo  was  not  large  enough  to  shelter 
all,  I had  my  tent  pitched  near  by,  which  I occupied  with 
the  chief  officer  of  my  escort.  The  arrieros  and  peons  had 
to  be  content  to  sleep  on  their  esteras — mats — in  the  open 
air.  Fortunately,  it  did  not  rain,  hut  everyone  complained 
of  the  bitter  cold,  although  my  thermometer  never  regis- 
tered a lower  temperature  during  the  night  than  46°  F. 
This,  however,  was  really  cold  for  those  who  were  thinly 
clad  and  who  had  come  from  warmer  climates.  It  was 
then  that  I learned  the  value  of  the  snug  sleeping  bag,  that 

362 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 


belonged  to  my  camping  outfit,  for  I was  as  comfortable 
as  if  I had  been  in  a German  feather  bed. 

It  was  interesting  that  evening  to  watch  the  cooks  while 
engaged  in  preparing  the  evening  repast  for  the  various 
parties  that  were  congregated  in  this  spot.  Most  of  them 
were  satisfied  with  a dish  of  chupe  and  some  fruit.  The 
piece  de  resistance  of  my  dinner  was  a rasher  of  Chicago 
bacon,  garnished  with  fried  potatoes.  This,  with  some  of 

the  good  things  still  left  in  Senora  L ’s  hamper,  made  a 

feast  fit  for  a king.  Bacon  never  seemed  so  toothsome  as 
on  this  occasion,  and  was,  I then  thought,  quite  as  worthy 
of  the  honors  of  knighthood  as  ever  was — if  one  chooses 
to  believe  the  story — that  famous  loin  of  beef  at  the  hands 
of  James  I. 

Most  of  the  wayfarers  retired  to  rest  shortly,  after  par- 
taking of  their  dish  of  chupe,  but,  although  the  moon  had 
not  yet  arisen, 


“The  azure  gloom 

Of  an  Italian  night,  where  the  deep  skies  assume 
Hues  which  have  words  and  speak  to  ye  of  heaven,” 

laid  a spell  on  the  spirit  and  was  an  invitation  to  stroll 
along  the  mountain  path  which  led  towards  fantastic,  aerial 
piles,  from  which  were  dimly  reflected  our  dying  campfires. 

My  surroundings  were  romantic  in  the  extreme  and 
kindled  the  imagination  as  would  the  entrance  into  the 
penetralia  of  fairyland.  But  I had  not  proceeded  more 
than  a few  score  paces  when  a peculiar  music  broke  upon 
my  ear.  It  proceeded  from  one  of  the  rocky  pinnacles  that 
were  barely  discernible  in  the  distance,  and  I at  once  rec- 
ognized it  as  the  pathetic,  melancholy  notes  of  the  quena, 
which  I had  so  frequently  heard  in  the  southern  part  of 
Peru. 

The  quena  is  the  flute  of  the  Quichua  Indian  and  is  rarely 
heard,  except  in  the  sierras.  By  the  aid  of  this  instrument 
the  Indian  gives  expression  to  his  sorrow  and  to  the  tribu- 
lations of  his  afflicted  spirit.  At  times  the  plaintive  tones 

363 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


are  the  outpouring  of  the  woes  of  parted  lovers  and  in  one 
of  the  songs  often  heard,  the  sentiments  expressed  are 
voiced  in  words  of  which  the  following  is  a translation: 

“When  the  sun  rises  in  brilliancy, 

When  it  sets  in  gaudy  lights; 

When  the  moon  and  stars  come  forth, 

I shall  ever  be  thinking  of  you. 

O do  not  for  a moment  deprive  me 
Of  these  enchanting  thoughts. 

Adieu ! beloved  one  of  my  life, 

You  will  hear  me  mourning  in  the  winds.” 

More  frequently,  however,  the  notes  of  the  quena  tell 
of  the  woes  of  a conquered  and  oppressed  race.  But  it  is 
rarely  that  these  dolorous  tones  are  heard  during  the  day. 
The  descendant  of  the  Incas  awaits  the  nightfall,  and 
then,  Philomela-like,  he  betakes  himself  with  his  quena — 
the  symbol  of  his  melancholy  character  and  of  his  unfor- 
tunate people — to  some  solitary  spot  where  all  nature  is 
in  repose  and  where  he  may  call  forth  the  tender  accents 
of  his  cherished  instrument  without  fear  of  interruption. 
The  quena,  indeed,  is  to  the  Indian  of  the  Peruvian  plateau 
what  the  Super  flumina  Babylonis  was  to  the  children  of 
Israel.  The  burden  of  the  quena,  as  I heard  it  that  night 
on  the  crest  of  the  Andes,  like  the  song  of  the  Hebrew 
exiles  on  the  banks  of  the  Euphrates,  was  Sedimus  et 
flevimus — we  sat  and  wept — when  we  remembered  the  de- 
parted glories  of  the  land  of  our  birth. 

The  melancholy  musician  had  in  me  an  attentive,  though 
unobserved  listener,  as  long  as  his  doleful  notes  awoke  the 
echoes  of  the  mountain  heights.  He  proved  to  be  one  of 
our  party,  and  a son  of  Cuzco,  who,  immediately  after  his 
evening  repast,  had  retired  to  this  solitary  spot  to  give 
vent  to  the  emotions  of  his  soul  and  relieve  his  sad  heart 
by  evoking  tones  that  told  of  the  sorrows  of  his  race,  and 
recalled  the  erstwhile  glories  of  the  Inca  Zion,  the  sacred 
city  of  the  Children  of  the  Sun. 

364 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 


We  struck  our  tent  the  following  morning  just  as  the 
rising  sun  was  tinging  the  rocky  pinnacles  around  us  with 
crimson  and  gold  and  were  soon  on  the  way  to  Leymebamba, 
our  day’s  objective. 

“The  views  before  us  this  morning,”  I transcribe  from 
my  diary,  “are  of  rarest  magnificence.  It  is  ‘scene  after 
scene,  picture  after  picture,  glory  after  glory;’  such  as  one 
may  behold  only  in  the  higher  regions  of  the  Cordilleras. 
The  narrow  sunbeams,  passing  through  the  peaks  of  the 
sierra  ahead  of  us,  smite  upon  the  ochreous  precipices  to 
the  west  of  the  Maranon  and  glow  into  various  shades  of 
vermilion  and  Venetian  red,  while  the  white  and  gray 
strata  below  them  gleam  with  rose  and  amber,  purple  and 
amethyst.  Far  down  below  our  path  is  a verdant  dale, 
where  some  lover  of  wild  nature  has  made  his  home  far 
from  the  haunts  of  men.  It  is  the  only  inhabited  spot  for 
miles  around.  The  garden  of  verdure,  circled  by  walls  of 
barren  rock,  is  like  an  emerald  enchased  in  gold  and  ar- 
rayed in  the  hues  of  the  rainbow.  ’ ’ 

“Then  there  are  the  night  mists  arising  from  the  depths 
of  the  valleys  and  ravines  and  forming  lake-like  expanses 
and  windless  seas  that  all  but  submerge  the  countless  is- 
landed summits  which  are  waiting  to  greet  the  lord  of  the 
day.  But  as  the  shafts  of  light  become  broader  and  strike 
the  undulating  surface  that  encompasses  the  ridges  and 
crests  below  our  path,  the  silver  surges  break  and  vanish, 
but  only  to  reappear  and  rally  in  the  deep  clefts  and  wind- 
ing valleys,  whence  floating  still  upwards  they  couch  in 
quiet  masses,  iridescent  with  the  morning  light,  upon  the 
broad  breasts  of  the  higher  hills,  whose  leagues  of  massy 
undulation  will  melt  back  and  back  into  that  robe  of  ma- 
terial light,  until  they  fade  away,  lost  in  its  luster,  to  ap- 
pear again  in  the  serene  heaven,  like  a wild,  bright,  impos- 
sible dream,  foundationless  and  inaccessible.” 

The  ever-changing  landscapes  were  such  as  would  have 
delighted  the  artistic  souls  of  Titian,  and  Corregio  and 
Tintoret,  while  the  marvelous  effects  of  light  and  shade, 

365 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


and  the  interminable  play  of  sunshine,  were  of  a kind  to 
enrapture  a Cuyp,  a Rubens,  a Claude.  How  I yearned, 
while  contemplating  these  visions  of  delight  and  glory,  for 
the  pen  of  Byron,  whom  Ruskin  has  so  aptly  characterized 
as  “the  most  accurate  and  powerful  of  all  modern  de- 
scribers,”  or  the  magic  brush  of  a Turner,  not,  indeed, 
adequately  to  describe  or  transfer  to  canvas  what  I beheld 
— that  were  impossible — but  merely  that  I might  have  some- 
thing of  a record  of  what,  at  the  time,  were  my  impressions 
and  emotions. 

Almost  before  I was  aware  of  it — so  rapt  was  I in  the 
contemplation  of  the  enchanting  vistas  that  constantly 
arose  before  us  as  we  silently  pursued  our  course  “In  the 
sweet  air  made  gladsome  by  the  sun” — we  had  attained  the 
crest  of  another  sierra,  where  the  Indian  speaks  only  with 
bated  breath.  It  was  the  Cumbre  of  Calla-Calla — hush- 
hush — a place  held  by  the  Quichuas  in  special  veneration, 
as  were  all  lofty  eminences  in  the  times  of  the  Incas. 

On  the  highest  point  of  Calla-Calla,  near  our  pathway, 
I observed  a large,  rocky  pinnacle  surmounted  by  a cross. 
This  did  not  specially  attract  my  attention,  as  I had  fre- 
quently seen  crosses  in  other  parts  of  Peru  on  the  loftiest 
peaks.  There  is  one,  for  instance,  on  a pinnacle  overlook- 
ing Calera  pass,  the  greatest  elevation  of  the  Oroya  rail- 
road. There  is  likewise  one  crowning  the  volcano  of 
Mount  Misti,  near  Arequipa. 

What,  however,  I did  find  deserving  of  notice,  was  a 
peculiar  mound  near  where  the  cross  was  erected.  It  was 
what  the  Peruvian  Indians  call  apachitas  1 — a kind  of 
adoratory  or  shrine  of  pagan  origin,  at  which  the  Quichua 

i Also  called  apachetas  or  apachectas.  The  correct  form,  according  to 
Gareilaso,  is  apachecta,  and  “means  that  which  is  raised,  but,  in  conformity 
with  the  idiom  of  the  language,  as  we  before  said,  the  Indians  include  much 
in  one  word.  By  this  word  they  intend  to  say  ‘We  give  thanks  and  make 
an  offering  to  Him  who  enables  us  to  raise  this  burden,  giving  us  strength 
and  vigor  to  ascend  such  rugged  heights  as  these.’  They  never  used  the 
word  until  they  had  reached  the  summit  of  the  pass,  and,  for  this  reason,  the 
Spanish  historians  say  that  they  called  the  summits  of  the  passes  apachitas, 
because  they  were  heard  to  say  this  apachecta.”  Op.  cit.,  Lib.  II,  Cap.  IV. 

366 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 

wayfarer  is  wont  to  make  some  kind  of  offering.  It  is  usu- 
ally a small  stone  or  pebble.  Sometimes  it  is  a quid  of 
coca,  or  a handful  of  earth,  or  a worn-out  sandal  or 
alpargata.  One  of  our  peons  added  a pebble  to  the  pile, 
while  another  cast  on  it  a bunch  of  green  grass  which  he 
pulled  from  the  wayside. 

Originally,  Padre  Arriaga  informs  us,  these  apacliitas 
were  nothing  more  than  idols  to  which  votive  offerings 
were  made  as  a thanksgiving  for  relief  from  fatigue,  or 
in  order  that  the  one  making  the  offering  might  receive 
from  the  spirit  of  the  place  strength  to  carry  his  burden.1 
So  far  as  I could  learn,  the  custom  is  now  more  a matter  of 
habit  than  anything  else,  and  is  usually  devoid  of  that 
superstitious  character  which  it  possessed  in  the  time  of 
the  Incas,  except,  possibly,  in  the  southern  and  middle 
parts  of  the  republic  where  apachitas  are  much  more  nu- 
merous than  in  the  northern  part. 

These  apachitas,  peculiar  though  they  may  seem  at  the 
first  blush,  have  their  counterparts  in  other  parts  of  the 
world,  notably  in  New  Mexico  and  Arizona,  where  similar 
stone  heaps — tapu — are  found  in  and  around  many  of  the 
Indian  pueblos.  Their  existence,  however,  does  not  imply 
that  there  was  ever  connection  between  the  Indians  of 
Peru  and  New  Mexico,  as  some  have  imagined,  for  similar- 
ity of  customs  among  peoples  widely  separated  does  not 
necessarily  indicate  community  of  origin. 

The  same  may  be  said  respecting  the  crosses  everywhere 
observable  on  the  more  conspicuous  eminences  of  Peru. 
Something  analogous  obtains  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  and 
has  its  origin  in  the  earliest  religious  observances  of  our 
race. 

“It  was  customary  in  the  Middle  Ages,”  writes  Lanciani, 
“to  consecrate  the  summits  of  hills  and  mountains  to 
Michael,  the  archangel,  from  an  association  of  ideas  that 
needs  no  explanation.  Similarly,  in  classical  times,  the 
Alpine  passes  had  been  placed  under  the  protection  of 

i Extirpation  de  la  Ydolatria  de  los  Indios  del  Peru,  p.  37,  Lima,  1621. 

367 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Jupiter,  the  Thunderer,  and  lofty  peaks  crowned  with  his 
temples.  Without  citing  the  example  of  Mont  Saint 
Michael,  on  the  coast  of  Normandy,  or  of  Monte  Gargano 
on  the  coast  of  Apulia,  we  need  only  look  around  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Rome  to  find  the  figure  of  the  angel  wherever  a 
solitary  hill  or  a commanding  ruin  suggested  the  idea  or 
sensation  of  height.  Deus  in  altis  habitat 1 

It  was  the  same  in  Greece,  in  Judea  and  other  Semitic 
lands,  where  the  cult  of  high  places  was  evidenced  by  the 
erection  of  shrines  and  temples  on  the  summits  of  hills 
and  mountains.  Among  the  Assyrians,  as  is  attested  by 
certain  cuneiform  inscriptions,  Ekur  or  Ykur — mountain- 
house — signified  both  God  and  his  temple.  Bel  is  synono- 
mous  with  “great  mountain,”  and  the  sun-god  appears 
under  the  symbol  of  a sacred  mountain.  And  so  strongly 
does  this  fact  appeal  to  the  Peruvian  scholar,  Pablo 
Padron,  that  he  uses  it  as  an  argument  in  support  of  his 
theory  of  the  Sumero-Assyrian  origin  of  the  Quichua  and 
Aymara  languages  of  primitive  Peru. 

The  altitude  of  Calla-Calla,  the  third  high  sierra  which 
we  had  crossed  since  leaving  the  Pacific,  is  but  little  more 
than  a hundred  feet  lower  than  Puna-pishgo-guayuna — 
the  cold  place  where  the  birds  die.  The  temperature  of 
the  two  summits  was,  strange  to  say,  identical,  viz : 46°  F. 
This  was  the  lowest  temperature  I found  anywhere  in  the 
Cordilleras  during  all  my  wanderings  among  them.  At 
no  time  had  I ever  suffered  from  cold,  although  my  ill- 
clad  companions  always  complained  of  the  low  temperature 
of  the  mountain  passes  2— and  at  no  place,  excepting  on 

1 Pagan  and  Christian  Rome,  pp.  226-227,  Boston  and  New  York,  1893. 

2 The  pass  of  Chirmas-cassa — the  harmful  ice— -where  three  hundred  of 
the  Inca  Yupanqui’s  men  were  frozen  to  death  during  his  campaign  against 
the  Chachapoyas,  could  not  have  been  far  from  Calla-Calla.  “A  great  mass 
of  snow,”  says  Garcilaso,  “suddenly  fell  and  smothered  them,  so  that  not 
one  escaped.”  Op.  cit.,  Lib.  VIII,  Cap.  II.  This  snow-fall,  I cannot  but 
think,  must  have  been  a most  unusual  occurrence,  but  the  memory  of  it 
had  probably  much  to  do  with  the  belief,  current  among  the  early  Spanish 
chroniclers,  in  an  inaccessible  mountain  chain,  extending  from  Santa  Marta 
to  the  Strait  of  Magellan,  that  is  never  trodden  by  man  or  animal  or  bird. 

368 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 


the  lofty  mountain  peaks,  did  I ever  see  snow  on  the  ground 
save  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  Galera  tunnel  of  the 
Oroya  railway.  This  point  is  just  above  the  line  of  per- 
petual snow,  which,  in  the  Andean  range  from  Panama  to 
Bolivia,  has  an  average  altitude  of  a little  more  than  fifteen 
thousand  feet. 

Crossing  Calla-Calla,  I observed  the  same  peculiar  fea- 
tures in  the  landscape  that  had  so  much  impressed  me 
on  the  crest  of  Suma  Paz  in  Colombia.  On  the  western 
side  of  the  sierra,  outside  of  occasional  clumps  of  trees  and 
patches  of  verdure  along  some  mountain  stream,  all  was 
bare  rock  and  arid  soil,  with  nothing  to  relieve  the  eye  but 
a stray  aloe  or  cactus.  On  the  eastern  slope,  however, 
there  was  a wealth  of  vegetation  of  every  kind.  But  what 
specially  impressed  me  were  the  delightful  green  pastures, 
which  reached  to  the  very  summit  of  Calla-Calla  on  which 
were  grazing  large  numbers  of  sheep,  cattle  and  horses. 
And  at  every  turn,  as  we  began  our  downward  course  to- 
wards Leymebamba,  there  were  clear,  rippling  streams 
just  starting  on  their  long  journey  to  the  distant  Amazon, 
and  charming  cascades  around  which  were  gathered  banks 
of  flowers  of  many  gorgeous  colors,  while  in  the  dim  dis- 
tance were 


“A  thousand  shadowy -pencill ’d  valleys” 

that  extended  upwards  to  the  faintly-flushed  peaks  of  the 
Cordillera.  And  high  above  us  were  circling  condors  glid- 
ing through  space  with  outstretched  pinions  that  were  al- 
most motionless. 

About  two  hours  before  sunset  we  were  in  the  small 
town  of  Leymebamba,  where  we  were  hospitably  received  by 
the  governor.  As  a lodging  place  for  the  night,  he  gave 
us  the  choice  of  quarters  in  his  own  house  or  in  the  casa 
de  ayuntamiento — town  hall — or  in  a newly  constructed 
school  house.  We  elected  the  latter  as  offering  more  pri- 
vacy, and  here  we  enjoyed  a good  night’s  rest.  But  I shall 
always  recollect  Leymebamba  as  a place  where  our  arriero 

369 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


had  exceeding  difficulty  in  getting  the  necessary  pasto — 
forage — for  his  animals.  Of  all  the  places  we  had  yet 
visited  it  was  in  the  words  of  Homer, 

“Fatter  far  to  feed 

A cliff-bred  goat,  than  raise  or  please  a steed,” 
for  it,  like  Ithaca  of  old, 

“Doth  least  provide 

Or  meads  to  feed  a horse,  or  ways  to  ride.” 

The  day  after  leaving  Leymebamba  we  journeyed  down 
a picturesque  valley,  in  which  there  were  many  chositas — 
cabins — surrounded  by  beautiful  green  fields  betokening  a 
soil  of  great  fertility,  but  that  which  most  interested  me 
was  the  marvelous  profusion  of  orchids  everywhere  visible. 
Every  ledge  of  rock,  every  tree  and  bush,  even  every  thorny 
cactus,  was  laden  with  them  and  seemed  but  a blaze  of 
rose  and  purple  and  lavender.  Nowhere  else  had  I ever 
seen  such  magnificence  of  orchid  life,  and  never  did  I so 
long  to  make  a collection  of  these  floral  beauties,  as  I did 
on  that  never-to-be-forgotten  day.  But  I was  not  equipped 
for  making  such  collections,  and  so  had  to  be  satisfied  to 
enjoy  them  where  they  had  been  planted  by  the  deft  hands 
of  Flora,  or  placed  by  the  piety  of  the  Indians,  who  made 
lovely  bouquets  of  them  for  their  numerous  shrines  along 
the  way.  It  was,  indeed,  touching  to  see  the  care  which 
these  poor  people  took  in  supplying  their  favorite  Santos 
— saints — usually  la  Virgen  Santisma  or  San  Jose,  with 
fresh  orchids,  not  once  but  several  times  a day.  Some  of 
the  shrines  and  statuettes  within  them  were  fashioned  with 
considerable  artistic  taste,  but  the  rich  ramillete  of  orchids, 
generally  some  lovely  delicately-tinted  Cattleya,  was  never 
missing. 

Our  next  stopping-place  was  a small  caserio,  counting 
only  five  or  six  houses,  called  Chillo.  From  this  place 
we  started  early  the  following  morning  for  Conde  Chacha, 
a charming  little  village  on  the  banks  of  a broad  mountain 

370 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 


stream.  Here  we  had  our  breakfast,  after  which  we  felt 
refreshed  and  ready  for  the  remaining  part  of  the  day’s 
journey,  which  was  to  bring  us  to  the  historic  town,  the 
inhabitants  call  it  Ciudad — City — of  Chachapoyas. 

Chachapoyas — from  Chachapuya — means,  according  to 
Padre  Valera,  “a  place  of  strong  men.”  “Before  its  con- 
quest by  Tupac  Inca  Yupanqui,  the  province  bearing  this 
name,  was  peopled,”  Garcilaso  tells  us,  “by  a numerous 
race  of  brave  men  and  very  beautiful  women.”  So  beau- 
tiful, indeed,  were  the  women,  that  Cieza  de  Leon  assures 
us  that  “many  of  them  were  worthy  to  become  the  wives 
of  the  Incas,  or  the  inmates  of  the  temple  of  the  sun.”  1 

The  present  city  of  Chachapoyas  was  founded  in  1536 
by  Captain  Alonzo  de  Alvarado  under  the  name  of  Ciudad 
de  la  Frontera.  It  is  located  near  the  foot  of  a lofty  sierra, 
in  the  midst  of  a fertile  and  salubrious  region,  at  an  alti- 
tude of  little  more  than  seven  thousand  feet.  It  numbers 
about  eight  thousand  inhabitants  and,  when  connected  with 
the  contemplated  railroad  between  Paiti  and  the  Amazon, 
will  be  a place  of  great  commercial  importance.  It  is  the 
seat  of  a bishopric  and  the  capital  of  the  department  of 
Amazonas.  Besides  the  cathedral,  it  counts  seven  churches, 
and  two  chapels.  It  has  a diocesan  seminary  and  a num- 
ber of  well-conducted  schools  for  the  youth  of  both  sexes. 
The  houses  are  mostly  of  adobe,  with  tiled  roofs.  Alto- 
gether, the  place  makes  a favorable  impression  on  the 
visitor,  an  impression  which  is  greatly  enhanced  by  the 
cordiality  and  charming  manners  of  its  people. 

I went  directly  to  the  prefectura,  where  I was  at  once 
received  and  treated  as  a member  of  the  family.  The 
Senor  Prefecto,  who  was  of  Spanish  descent  and  well  ad- 
vanced in  years,  was  a typical  gentleman  of  the  old  school. 
He  had  all  the  courtesy  of  a Castilian  hidalgo  and  all 
the  chivalry  of  a conquistador.  I loved  to  think  that  he 
was  a descendant  of  one  of  the  gallant  band  that  accom- 
panied Alvarado  from  Trujillo,  over  probably  the  same 

1 Op.  cit.,  p.  278. 


371 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


route  I had  myself  traversed,  when  they  set  out  to  make 
the  region  between  the  Maranon  and  the  Huallaga  a part 
of  the  possessions  of  the  King  of  Spain.  So  strongly  did 
his  amiable  character  appeal  to  me  that  I never  recall  my 
visit  to  Chachapoyas  without  seeing  the  benign  visage  of 
the  gracious  and  generous  old  man,  whom  all  his  people 
revere  as  a friend  and  father.  The  two  days  I spent  in 
the  home  of  this  gentle  and  cultured  type  of  a past  age 
were  days  of  unalloyed  delight,  and  when  he  bade  me  fare- 
well, with  the  words  Dios  le  guarde  d Vd.,  some  miles  out- 
side of  the  city,  whither  he  and  his  aid  had  accompanied  me 
on  my  way  to  Moyohamba,  I felt  as  if  I were  taking  leave 
of  a friend  of  years  instead  of  a passing  acquaintance  of  a 
few  hours. 

Our  first  stop  after  leaving  Chachapoyas  was  at  the  vil- 
lage of  Soloco,  where  we  spent  the  night  in  the  house  of  our 
new  arriero  who  had  supplied  us  with  saddle  and  sumpter 
mules  for  our  journey  from  Chachapoyas  to  Moyohamba. 
Shortly  after  our  departure  from  Soloco,  we  found  our- 
selves in  the  montana,  that  forest-clad  region  which  com- 
prises the  whole  of  Peru  Oriental. 

In  addition  to  this  alteration  in  the  aspect  of  the  land- 
scape, there  was  also  a marked  meteorological  change. 
When  I left  Casa  Grande,  I was  assured  that  I should 
encounter  an  aguacero — a shower — before  the  end  of  the 
day.  “Hoy  es  el  Cordonazo  de  San  Francisco  1 y siempre 
llueve  a este  tiempo” — “This  is  the  feast  of  St.  Francis 
and  it  always  rains  at  this  time.”  But  it  did  not  rain  that 
day  nor  for  several  days  subsequently.  In  Cajamarca,  it 
is  true,  there  was  a slight  rainfall — aguacerito — but,  after 
we  once  entered  the  Montana,  we  had  what  my  companions 
called  an  aguaceron — a heavy  downpour — which  continued 
with  little  cessation  for  three  days  and  nights. 

Hitherto  our  pathway  had  been  fairly  good,  but  now  it 

r \'  A l | . 

i The  name  given  by  Spanish  sailors  to  the  autumnal  equinox,  on  account 

of  the  storms  that  are  supposed  to  prevail  about  that  time,  or  St.  Francis’ 
day,  which  falls  on  the  4th  of  October. 

372 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 

became  in  places  almost  impassable.  Over  certain  mo- 
rasses it  was  the  worst  kind  of  a corduroy  road,  and  it  was 
a marvel  to  me  that  our  animals  were  able  to  proceed  with- 
out breaking  their  legs.  In  other  places  the  trail  was  like 
a deep,  narrow  ditch,  through  which  our  mounts  could 
barely  force  their  way.  While  passing  through  these 
trenches  the  rider  was  obliged  to  hold  his  feet  up  around 
the  pommel  of  his  saddle  at  the  imminent  risk  of  breaking 
his  neck.  Then  there  were  long  stretches  of  bare,  slippery 
rock,  alternating  with  sections  where  our  path  was  strewn 
with  trees  that  had  recently  fallen.  But  our  mules  man- 
aged to  clamber  over  or  crawl  under  these  obstructions. 
Besides  all  these  obstacles,  there  were  steep,  stony  stair- 
ways leading  up  and  down  dizzy  precipices,  where  it  was 
at  times  difficult  for  one  to  keep  one’s  place  in  the  saddle. 

My  companions  grumbled  at  the  weather  and  the  wretched 
road,  and  frequently  gave  vent  to  their  pent-up  feelings 
by  a vigorous  caramba  shot  out  between  the  teeth  with  a 
combination  of  a Scotch  trill  and  a north-of-England  burr. 
Once,  when  we  had  to  cross  a particularly  marshy  spot, 
three  of  them  insisted  on  guiding  their  mules,  against  the 
better  judgment  of  the  animals,  in  a certain  direction  which 
the  mules  seemed  to  know  instinctively  was  impassable, 
and,  before  they  had  gone  more  than  a few  rods,  all  were 
so  deep  in  the  bog  that  it  was  only  with  the  greatest  diffi- 
culty that  we  were  able  to  extricate  riders  and  mounts 
from  their  dangerous  position.  Indeed,  it  looked,  for  a 
while,  as  if  both  animals  and  men  were  going  to  disappear 
beneath  the  yielding  quagmire.  This  mishap  was  particu- 
larly mortifying  to  the  captain  of  cavalry  and  a corporal 
who  prided  themselves  on  their  horsemanship.  In  this 
case  the  customary  caramba  was  inadequate  to  express  the 
disgust  of  the  mud-covered  officers,  and  they  patiently  con- 
tinued their  journey,  until  they  found  a stream  of  water 
where  they  could  cleanse  their  soiled  habiliments.  I 
escaped  a similar  contretemps , because  I had  learned  by 
experience  to  have  unlimited  confidence  in  the  superior  ad- 

373 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


dress  of  my  mule,  and  in  this  case,  as  in  so  many  similar 
ones,  my  confidence  was  fully  justified. 

Unlike  my  escort,  I had  no  fault  to  find  with  the  weather. 
They  spoke  of  it  as  had,  as  execrable,  but  to  me  every  day 
I spent  in  the  Cordilleras  was  good,  only  some  days  were 
better  than  others.  Thanks  to  my  water-proof  poncho,  I 
was  always  able  to  keep  dry  and,  far  from  complaining  of 
the  ceaseless  downpour,  I thoroughly  enjoyed  it.  It  was 
indeed  a grateful  change  from  the  parched  earth  and  cloud- 
less skies,  with  which  I had  so  long  been  familiar,  to  the 
exuberant  vegetation  of  the  montana  and  to  regions  where 
I had  an  opportunity  of  observing  the  wonderful  cloud- 
forms  which  are  such  striking  features  of  the  rainy  belt  of 
the  eastern  Cordillera. 

Never  shall  I forget  the  second  day  of  our  journey  after 
we  left  Soloco.  It  was  between  the  dark,  windowless  tambo 
of  Ventanilla,  where  we  spent  the  night,  and  a still  more 
primitive  stopping-place  called  Tingo  Ramos.  Between 
these  points,  we  had  to  cross  another  mountain  range  whose 
altitude  was  something  over  eleven  thousand  feet,  where  the 
thermometer — strange  to  say — again  registered  46°  F.  as 
it  did  on  the  summits  of  Calla-Calla  and  Puna-pishgo- 
guayuna. 

That  day  I was  in  the  saddle  eight  hours  continuously, 
and,  during  all  that  time,  it  rained  without  intermission. 
But  as  I felt  then,  and  as  I recall  it  now  it  was  one  of  the 
most  delightful  days  I spent  during  nearly  a year’s  wander- 
ing in  the  tropics.  I did  not  think  of  taking  luncheon,  for  I 
never  experienced  the  slightest  sensation  of  hunger.  I was 
too  preoccupied  with  the  wonderful  palms  and  tree-ferns 
that  adorned  my  path.  Well  did  Linnaeus  call  palms  the 
princes  of  the  vegetable  world.  But  if  he  could  have  seen 
the  wondrous  tree-ferns  that  greeted  my  delighted  eyes 
during  that  memorable  day,  vying  with  the  palm  in  height 
and  surpassing  it  in  the  length  and  breadth  of  its  delicate, 
lace-like  fronds,  he  surely  would  have  named  them  the 
princesses  of  the  plant  kingdom. 

374 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 

I was  intent,  too,  on  studying  the  extraordinary  effects 
of  earth-sculpture,  which  gave  rise  to  the  most  bizarre  of 
rock-formations  and  the  most  peculiar  of  mountain  con- 
tours. And  then  there  were  the  countless  mountain 
streams  of  crystal  water,  the  charming  cascades  and  water- 
falls that  made  the  virgin  forest  vocal  with  sweetest  and 
most  soothing  melody. 

But  over  and  above  the  beauties  of  plant  life  and  the 
wonders  of  rock-formation,  I think  I was  that  day  more 
under  the  spell  of  the  marvels  of  the  sky.  The  ever-chang- 
ing clouds  presented  a display  of  form  and  color  I never 
before  beheld  in  any  part  of  the  world.  It  was  as  if  the 
spirit  of  the  Andes  wished,  on  this  last  range  which  I was 
to  pass,  to  give  me  an  exhibition  of  its  magic  power  that 
should  be  the  culmination  of  all  the  pleasures  enjoyed  while 
traversing  its  secret  and  mysterious  recesses. 

There  were  clouds  of  every  conceivable  form  and  color, 
now  at  rest,  now  in  motion;  at  one  time  formless  masses 
wreathing  lofty  peaks  or  draping  shattered  cliffs;  at  an- 
other enormous  swirling,  writhing  drifts  of  vapor  full  of  the 
energy  of  the  storm;  while  yet  again  the  tortured  mists 

“Called  out  shapes 

And  phantoms  from  the  crags  and  solid  earth 
As  fast  as  a musician  scatters  sounds 
Out  of  an  instrument.” 

\ 

In  these  weird  shapes  of  the  drifting  brume,  in  these  fan- 
tastic cloud-wraiths  that  danced  on  the  verge  of  dizzy 
precipices,  or  swept  over  abysmal  chasms  towards  some 
cloud-mantled  pinnacle  high  overhead,  I discerned  in  fancy 
the  departed  spirits  of  Indian  chieftains  or  Valkyrie-like 
figures  bearing  fallen  heroes  to  the  Inca  Valhalla. 

During  the  greater  part  of  the  day,  whether  at  rest  or 
in  motion,  the  clouds  were  gray  and  gloomy  and  not  in- 
frequently collected  in  dark  nimbus  heaps  that  might  well 
have  been  the  favorite  abode  of  the  Eddie  Thor.  But  as 
the  day’s  journey  was  drawing  to  an  end,  the  sun  suddenly 

375 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

broke  through  the  misty  veil  that  had  so  long  concealed  it' 
from  view,  and  for  a moment  flamed  with  a splendor  that 
caused  the  landscape  to  glow  with  all  the  gorgeous  hues 
of  the  opal  and  the  sapphire,  the  topaz  and  the  hyacinth. 
This,  however,  was  but  prelusive  to  a much  more  gorgeous 
spectacle,  to  a vision  of  one  of  those  prismatic  clouds  that 
then  swept  between  the  sun  and  myself,  which  Euskin  has 
so  well  described  as  “Threads  and  meshes  and  tresses  and 
tapestries,  flying,  falling,  melting,  reappearing;  spinning 
and  unspinning  themselves,  coiling  and  uncoiling,  winding 
and  unwinding,  faster  than  eye  or  thought  can  follow,  and 
through  all  their  dazzling  maze  of  frosty  filaments  shines 
a painted  rainbow  in  palpitation;  its  pulses  of  color  in- 
terwoven in  motion,  intermittent  in  fire, — emerald  and  ruby 
and  pale  purple  and  violet  melting  into  a blue  that  is  not 
of  the  sky,  but  of  the  sunbeam; — purer  than  crystal,  softer 
than  the  rainbow,  and  brighter  than  the  snow.”  1 

This  scene  was  a glorious  finale  to  a day  of  dreams,  of 
symphonies  of  sound  and  color.  An  hour  later  we  were  at 
Tinga  Ramos,  our  halting  place  for  the  night.  It  consisted 
of  three  small,  open,  palm-thatched  sheds,  about  six  feet 
square  and  so  low  that  we  had  to  stoop  on  entering  them. 
But  they  answered  our  purpose.  They  protected  us  from 
the  rain  and  that  was  all  we  desired.  I had  a cot  placed 
in  one  of  them,  preferring  it,  for  a change,  to  my  tent. 
And,  shortly  after  our  frugal  evening  meal  I was  in  the 
realm  of  dreams,  enjoying  again  all  the  delightful  pictures 
that  had  flitted  before  me  during  the  preceding  day  of  rap- 
ture in  Andean  wonderland. 

The  succeeding  day  was  spent  in  the  heart  of  the  mon- 
tana  with  no  incident  worthy  of  record.  The  rains  contin- 
ued and  the  roads  became  worse  from  hour  to  hour.  The 
evening  found  us  at  a small  caserio  called  Pucatambo,  where 
we  spent  a comfortable  night  under  a ranchito  similar  to 
the  one  which  had  sheltered  us  the  night  before,  but  larger. 

Although  we  were  refreshed  by  our  night’s  rest,  it  was 

i The  Storm-Cloud  of  the  Nineteenth  Century,  Lecture  I. 

376 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 


quite  different  with  our  mules.  For  when  they  were 
brought  to  us  in  the  morning,  we  found  them  covered  with 
blood.  Some  of  the  pack  animals  were  so  weak  that  it 
looked  for  a while  as  if  they  would  he  unable  to  carry  their 
burden  any  further.  They  had,  during  the  night,  been  the 
victims  of  the  blood-sucking  murcielagos— desmodontoicf 
bats — and  one  would  have  imagined,  from  their  pitiful 
condition,  that  they  had  been  the  prey  of  the  vampires  of 
European  folklore.  My  only  regret  was  that  I was  unable 
to  secure  one  of  these  blood-thirsty  Desmodi  for  the  ben- 
efit of  those  doubting  Thomases  who,  like  Orton,  dismiss 
them  as  merely  “ diabolical  imps  of  imaginative  travelers.”  1 

For  the  information,  however,  of  those  who  may  desire 
the  facts  in  the  case,  I translate  a paragraph  from  Fig- 
ueroa’s Relation  de  las  Misiones  en  el  Pais  de  los  Maynas, 
which  reads  as  follows : — 

“ This  plague  (of  bats)  must  be  counted  among  the 
general  plagues  that  molest  these  lands,  and  the  Spaniards, 
in  order  to  deliver  their  domestic  fowls  from  this  pest,  con- 
struct their  poultry-roosts,  so  that  they  can  be  closed  in, 
and  they  even  build  them  under  ground.  But,  even  in  these 
enclosures  and  subterranean  coops  they  often  find  that 
their  birds  have  been  killed  by  the  bats.  Nor  are 
human  beings  free  from  them  when  they  sleep  without  a 
protective  covering;  for  they  awake  with  small  pools  of 
blood  from  the  wounds  which  were  made  in  the  feet,  hands 
and  face.2  So  numerous  at  times  are  these  pests,  that  no 
fowls  are  left  alive.  They  do  not  even  spare  cattle,  and 
pigs;  for  only  recently  the  bats  destroyed  all  the  cattle, 
counting  among  them  a large  number  of  pigs  and  nearly  a 
hundred  cows.”  3 And  all  this  occurred  in  the  very  region 

1 The  Andes  and  the  Amazon,  p.  205,  New  York,  1870. 

2 The  bite  of  these  bats  is  usually  unobserved,  as  it  is  attended  with  only 
a slight  tickling  sensation,  of  which  the  sleeper  is  quite  unconscious. 

3 Pp.  247-248,  Tom.  I,  in  Coleccion  de  Libros  y Documentos  Referentes  d 
la  Historia  de  America,  Madrid,  1904.  Compare  Noticias  Autenticas  del 
Famoso  Rio  Marahon,  published  by  Marcos  Jimenez  de  la  Espada,  in  Bolentin 
de  la  Sociedad  Geografica  de  Madrid , Tom.  XXVII,  pp.  61-62. 

377 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


traversed  by  Prof.  Orton,  of  which  he  declared  the  bats  to 
be  only  the  “diabolical  imps  of  imaginative  travelers.” 

Nor  is  this  all.  According  to  the  late  Dr.  Peters  of  Ber- 
lin, who  was  a specialist  in  these  peculiar  cheiriopters,  all 
American  bats,  far  from  being  harmless  fruit-eaters,  as 
so  frequently  asserted,  are  blood-suckers,  and  some  of 
them  are  as  great  a pest  to-day  as  they  were  in  the  time  of 
Figueroa. 

We  left  Pucatambo  early  in  the  morning,  and  after  two 
hours’  ride  through  a dense,  gloomy  forest,  which  was  a 
reminder  of  the  selva  oscura,  in  which  Dante  found  him- 
self astray,  we  came  to  a place  known  as  Punta.  de  la  Ven- 
tana — Window  Point.  And  most  appropriate  is  the  name. 
It  is  a small  clearing,  nearly  a mile  above  sea  level,  which 
stands  on  the  verge  of  a precipitous  declivity,  from  which, 
as  from  a window,  the  traveler  has  a most  enchanting  pros- 
pect. 

Before  us,  and  nearly  three  thousand  feet  beneath  the 
projecting  rock  on  which  we  stood,  was  a vast,  verdant 
ocean,  a glowing,  green  expanse  of  interminable  forests, 
relieved  by  smiling  savannas,  and  dotted  with  numerous 
towns  and  villages  in  which  the  wandering  eye  was  lost 
in  admiration  and  awe. 

“The  breaths  of  kissing  night  and  day 
Were  mingled  in  the  eastern  heaven,” 

and,  in  Sir  Philip  Sidney’s  graphic  words,  “The  morning 
did  strew  roses  and  violets  on  the  heavenly  floor  against 
the  coming  of  the  sun.” 

The  picture  before  us  was  ravishingly  beautiful,  and  my 
feelings,  I think,  must  have  been  akin  to  those  of  Moses, 
when,  after  his  long  wanderings  in  the  wilderness,  he  stood 
on  the  top  of  Phasga  on  Mount  Nebo,  and  riveted  his  wist- 
ful gaze  on  the  Land  of  Promise.  And  this  similarity  of 
sentiment  was  not  without  cause,  for  I then  beheld,  as  I 
soon  had  reason  to  know,  the  land  of  milk  and  honey  of 
fruitful,  fortunate  Peru. 


378 


CHAPTER  XIX 


A PERUVIAN  PARADISE 

After  leaving  Chackapoyas  onr  bridle-way  became  daily 
worse  and  worse,  so  that  at  times  it  was  almost  impass- 
able. Our  arriero  usually  told  us  in  tbe  morning  wbat 
kind  of  a road  we  might  expect  during  tbe  day,  and  bis 
usual  qualification  for  it  was  malo  or  muy  malo — bad  or 
very  bad.  But,  as  we  prepared  to  make  tbe  descent  of  La 
Ventana,  be  ejaculated — bajada  malisima — by  wbicb  be 
wished  us  to  understand  that  tbe  path  we  were  about  to 
descend  was  execrable  in  tbe  extreme. 

Tbe  bajada  was  indeed  malisima — tbe  worst  section  of 
road  by  far  that  we  had  yet  encountered.  Only  experienced 
mountain  mules  would  attempt  to  make  such  a rough,  pre- 
cipitous descent.  Even  my  own  mule,  veteran  as  be  was, 
often  stopped  before  tbe  more  difficult  places  in  order  to 
determine  whether  it  was  best  to  walk  or  jump  or  slide. 
At  times  be  actually  groaned  when  contemplating  tbe 
rugged  path  before  him.  Putnam’s  feat  of  horsemanship 
in  dashing  down  a precipice  whither  tbe  British  dragoons 
dared  not  follow  seemed  easy  in  comparison  with  this  ter- 
rible ride  down  tbe  vertiginous  slope  of  La  Ventana.  But, 
thanks  to  our  sagacious  mules,  we  found  ourselves  at  tbe 
end  of  nearly  three  hours,  at  tbe  bottom  of  this  abrupt 
declivity  and  grateful  that  no  bones  bad  been  broken.  It 
was  decidedly  tbe  worst  section  of  road  that  we  bad  met 
with  in  our  long  ride  from  the  Pacific. 

After  this  drop  of  more  than  a half  mile,  we  noticed  a 
marked  change  in  tbe  vegetation.  One  of  tbe  first  spec- 
imens of  plant  life  to  attract  our  attention  was  a clump  of 

379 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


large,  luxuriant  plantains.  We  had,  it  is  true,  frequently 
seen  both  plantains  and  bananas  between  Cbacbapoyas  and 
La  Ventana,  but  none  that  compared  with  the  large,  ex- 
uberant growths  that  give  such  beauty  to  the  lowland  land- 
scapes of  tropical  latitudes. 

Here,  then,  we  bad  the  first  evidence  of  that  land  of 
promise  of  which  we  had  caught  a glimpse  from  the  sum- 
mit of  La  Ventana.  For  was  not  that  bunch  of  fruit — so 
great  that  it  required  two  men  to  carry  it — which  was 
brought  by  the  twelve  spies  to  the  Children  of  Israel  as  a 
proof  of  the  fertility  of  the  soil  of  Canaan,  a bunch  of  plan- 
tains and  not  a bunch  of  grapes,  as  is  supposed?  There 
are  those  who  think  so,  as  there  are  also  those  who  aver 
that  the  forbidden  fruit  in  Eden  was  also  the  plantain 
and  hence  the  name  given  it  by  Linnaeus — Musa  Paradi- 
saica.  At  all  events,  I have  seen  in  the  plain  of  Jericho 
just  such  noble  plantains  as  I found  at  the  foot  of  La  Ven- 
tana. And  what  a coincidence  that,  what  was  exhibited  to 
Moses  as  a sample  of  the  fruits  of  the  promised  land,  should 
also  be  the  first  fruit  which  delighted  my  eyes  as  I en- 
tered the  land  of  promise  of  Peru ! 

When  we  were  within  about  an  hour’s  ride  of  Rioja, 
my  Cuzco  friend,  the  Indian  musician  whose  quena  had 
so  entertained  me  at  Tambo  Viejo,  approached  me  and 
said,  “Santo  Toribio,  el  Amigo  de  los  Indios,  ha  venido  por 
acd” — ‘‘Saint  Toribio,  the  friend  of  the  Indians,  came  this 
way.”  It  was  true.  This  apostle  of  Peru  had  extended  his 
missionary  labors  even  to  this  distant  region,  and  that,  too, 
when  travel  was  far  more  difficult  than  it  is  at  present. 
But  that  his  memory  should  still,  after  three  centuries,  be 
so  green  among  those  uncultured  people  for  whom  he  gave 
the  best  years  of  his  life,  was  something  that  made  a deep 
impression  upon  me.  It  was,  however,  but  another  evi- 
dence, added  to  many  similar  ones  which  I already  pos- 
sessed, that  the  Indian  is  far  from  being  ungrateful,  as 
frequently  represented,  and  that  he  appreciates  at  its  full 
value  what  is  done  in  his  behalf.  If  he  is  slow  to  forget 

380 


A PERUVIAN  PARADISE 


an  injury  or  an  enemy,  he  is  not  quick,  as  is  so  often  as- 
serted, to  forget  a benefit  or  a friend. 

As  we  drew  near  Bioja,  we  were  startled  by  a loud,  shrill 
sound  like  that  of  a factory  or  locomotive  whistle.  I knew 
there  was  no  locomotive  within  five  hundred  miles,  but  I 
was  surprised  to  hear  a steam  whistle  of  any  kind  in  this 
distant  corner  of  the  Andes.  Imagine  my  surprise  when 
I discovered  that  the  piercing  note,  which  I had  heard,  was 
produced  by  a certain  species  of  cicada,  which  is  very  com- 
mon in  these  parts  and  which  I frequently  heard  after- 
wards. It  is  said  that  their  notes  can  he  heard  as  far 
as  a mile  away,  and  although  I had  not  an  opportunity  of 
verifying  this  statement,  I am  inclined  to  think  that  it  is 
true. 

This  insect — cicada  tibicen — is  a distant  relative  of  the 
cicada  of  which  the  poets  have  sounded  the  praises  from  the 
earliest  times,  and  to  which  Anacreon,  Cowper  and  Goethe 
have  dedicated  some  of  their  most  beautiful  verses.  I have 
never,  however,  been  able  to  understand  what  has  made 
cicadas  and  grasshoppers  such  favorites  with  poets,  for 
to  me  their  stridulating  notes  are  far  from  pleasing.1  Yet 
Anacreon  in  one  of  his  odes,  addressed  to  the  cicada,  does 
not  hesitate  to  declare: 

“Thou  to  all  mankind  art  dear; 

Dear  to  all  the  tuneful  Nine 
Seated  round  the  throne  divine; 

Dear  to  Phoebus,  god  of  day, 

He  inspired  thy  sprightly  lay, 

And  with  voice  melodious  bless ’d, 

And  in  vivid  colors  dress’d. 

Thou  from  spoil  of  time  art  free; 

Age  can  never  injure  thee. 

Wisest  daughter  of  the  earth! 

Fond  of  song,  and  full  of  mirth; 

i Probably  because  they  were  “the  representatives  of  the  Athenians  as 
children  of  the  soil,”  and  because  they  informed  the  Muses  in  heaven  who 
honored  them  on  earth ! 


381 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Free  from  flesh,  exempt  from  pains, 

No  blood  riots  in  thy  veins : 

To  the  bless ’d  I equal  thee ; 

Thou  ’rt  a demideity.  ’ ’ 

The  lofty  crest  of  La  Ventana  was  suffused  with  the 
last  smile  of  the  departing  sunbeams  when  we  alighted 
before  the  hospitable  home  of  the  sub-prefect  of  Rioja. 
The  day’s  ride  had  been  trying,  notwithstanding  the  many 
interesting  objects  that  greeted  us  along  our  pathway,  but 
fatigue  and  hunger  and  thirst  were  forgotten  as  soon  as 
we  passed  the  threshold  of  the  sub-prefectura,  where  we 
found  the  same  cordial  welcome  that  had  been  every- 
where extended  us  during  our  long  journey  across  the 
Cordilleras. 

Rioja,  formerly  called  Santo  Toribio,  in  honor  of  the 
apostle  of  Peru,  is  located  on  a charming  sandstone  pla- 
teau nearly  half  a mile  above  sea  level.  It  counts  about 
three  thousand  inhabitants,  most  of  whom  are  engaged  in 
the  manufacture  of  sombreros  de  paja — straw  hats — known 
also  as  sombreros  de  Guayaquil,  because  large  numbers  of 
them,  made  in  Ecuador,  are  shipped  from  that  part.  In 
Europe  and  the  United  States  they  are  usually  called  Pan- 
ama hats,  while  in  many  parts  of  South  America,  they  take 
their  name  from  the  material — jipijapa  or  bombonage — 
from  which  they  are  manufactured. 

The  scientific  name  of  the  bombonage  is  Carludovica 
palmata.  It  belongs  to  the  screw-pine  family  and  bears 
leaves  which  resemble  those  of  the  saw  palmetto.  The 
plant  is  from  five  to  ten  feet  high,  and  grows  wild  in  the 
hot  and  humid  regions  of  Colombia  and  Ecuador,  and  in 
the  montana  of  Peru  the  toquilla — filaments — for  making 
hats  are  obtained  from  the  tender,  fan-shaped  leaves  about 
two  feet  long,  which  are  cut  from  the  heart  of  the  plant 
just  as  they  begin  to  unfold.  After  the  green  parts  of  the 
leaves  are  removed,  the  white  parts  which  remain  are  di- 
vided into  narrow  strips  and  boiled  in  hot  water  for  two 


382 


A PERUVIAN  PARADISE 


or  three  hours.  They  are  then  dried  and  bleached  in  the 
sun,  when  they  are  assorted  and  ready  for  use. 

Every  house  in  Rioja  is  a small  hat  factory,  and  every 
man,  woman  and  child  is  a hat-maker.  Indeed,  hat-making 
is  practically  the  sole  industry  of  the  town.  Here  one 
will  find  sombreros  of  every  degree  of  fineness,  from  those 
worn  by  the  native  peons  to  those  which  are  exported  for 
royalty  and  plutocracy.  The  poorer  quality  of  hat  may 
be  made  in  a day  or  two,  while  the  finest  variety  requires 
the  continued  labor  of  an  expert  for  many  months.  The 
prices  vary  from  fifty  cents  to  fifty  dollars,  according  to 
the  fineness  of  material  and  workmanship.  Sometimes, 
however,  the  material  is  so  soft,  silky  and  pliable  and  the 
workmanship  so  exquisite  that  hats  are  produced  that 
readily  sell  for  two  hundred  dollars.  These  are  so  delicate 
and  flexible  that  they  can  be  folded  and  carried  in  the  pocket 
like  a silk  handkerchief,  without  the  slightest  injury. 

Much,  however,  as  I was  interested  in  the  hat  industry 
of  Rioja,  there  were  other  attractions  that  had  a greater 
claim  on  my  attention.  These  were  the  wonderful  exhibi- 
tions of  fruit  and  flowers  that  greeted  the  eye  at  every 
step.  Never  before  did  I witness  such  a profusion  of 
bloom,  such  abundance  of  fruit.  My  host  gave  me  a list 
of  no  fewer  than  thirty-three  domestic  fruits  and  twenty- 
six  wild  ones — all  edible — which  grow  in  and  around  the 
town.  This  list  embraces  only  the  species.  Many  of  the 
cultivated  species  have  numerous  varieties.  Most  of  them 
I had  seen  in  other  parts  of  the  tropics,  but  there  were 
many  fruits  of  the  temperate  as  well  as  of  the  torrid  zone 
that  were  quite  new  to  me. 

And  such  luscious  fruits!  They  appeared  to  be  the 
quintessence  of  rich  juices  and  delicious  perfumes,  and 
worthy  of  being  ranked  with  the  golden  apples  of  the  Hes- 
perides.  Years  before,  when  I first  tasted  the  oranges  of 
Cordoba,  Mexico,  I thought  they  were  unrivaled.  But  they 
are  surpassed  by  the  nectarine  fruits  of  Rioja.  I was,  of  a 
truth,  in  one  of  those  favored  haunts  of  Flora  and  Pomona 

383 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


“Where  glowing  nature  seems  most  prodigal 
Of  life  and  beauty,  where  the  eye  beholds 
Orchards  that  blossom  while  their  ripe  fruits  fall.” 

As  I wandered  through  the  fruit  and  flower  gardens  of 
this  fair  town  and,  in  silent  admiration,  strolled  through 
“Groves  whose  rich  trees  wept  odorous  gum  and  balm,” 
it  did  not  require  a great  stretch  of  fancy  for  me  to  im- 
agine that  I was  contemplating  a vestige  of  the  wreck  of 
Paradise.  I then  recalled  the  vision  of  Frate  Alberigo,  the 
monk  of  Monte  Cassino,  who  was  favored  with  a view  of 
the  abode  of  the  blessed.  He  went  forth,  he  tells  us,  into 
a most  delightful  plain.  “But  of  what  extent,  what  glory, 
what  beauty  this  splendid,  sweet  and  charming  plain  is, 
no  tongue,  no  language,  can  tell.  It  was  filled  with  all 
pleasure  and  joy  and  delight.  There  is  the  perfume  of  lilies 
and  roses,  there  is  the  fragrance  of  all  grateful  odors,  there 
abound  manna  and  unalloyed  eternal  happiness.  In  the 
middle  of  this  plain  is  Paradise.”1  Had  Frate  Alberigo 
been  transported  to  the  plateau  of  Rioja,  he  could  scarcely 
have  described  better  its  surpassing  wealth  of  flower  and 
fruitage. 

And  here,  too,  is  the  perpetual  spring  of  the  Golden 
Age — ver  erat  aeternum — of  which  Ovid  so  sweetly  sings 
in  his  Metamorphoses.  And,  although  but  a few  degrees 
from  the  equator,  the  climate  is  deliciously  mild.  At  no 
time  did  my  thermometer  record  a higher  temperature  than 
78°  F.  So  luxuriant  was  the  vegetation,  carpeting  and' 
scenting  the  earth  with  verdure  and  bloom,  that  it  really 
seemed  as  if 

“Zephyrus  did  breed 
Sweet  flowers  by  his  gentle  blast 

Without  the  help  of  seed.”  2 

1 Alberici  Visio.  Sec.  20,  in  Osservazioni  sopra  I’Originalita  di  Dante, 
p.  178,  da  Francesco  Cancellieri,  Roma,  1814. 

2 Ver  erat  seternum;  placidique  tepentibus  auris 
Mulcebant  Zephyri  natos  sine  semine  flores. 

Ovid,  Uetamorphoseon,  Lib.  I,  w.  107,  108. 

384 


a Peruvian  paradise 

The  direct  road  from  Rioja  to  Moyobamba  is  about  fif- 
teen miles  but,  on  account  of  the  heavy  rains  that  bad 
fallen  a few  days  before  our  arrival  it  was  quite  impas- 
sable. We  were,  accordingly,  compelled  to  take  a circui- 
tous route,  but  I was  glad  of  this,  for  it  enabled  me  to  see 
several  towns  and  hamlets  I should  otherwise  have  missed. 
In  all  of  these  the  chief  industry,  as  in  Rioja,  is  the  mak- 
ing of  bats  and  the  preparation  of  toquilla  for  shipment  to 
Celendin. 

Our  path  between  Rioja  and  Moyobamba  was  over  a 
comparatively  level  plain — smiling  savannas  and  haciendas 
alternating  with  charming  woodlands.  Sleek  herds  of 
cattle  roamed  over  the  savannas  and  the  haciendas  exhib- 
ited broad  acres  covered  with  maize  and  sugar-cane. 

The  Indian  corn  was  such  as  would  delight  the  eye  and  the 
heart  of  an  Iowa  or  Kansas  farmer.  Only  once- — on  the 
banks  of  the  Meta,  in  Colombia — had  I ever  seen  a more 
luxuriant  field  of  this  important  staple.  The  stalks  were 
nearly  fifteen  feet  high  and  each  stalk  bore  two  or  three 
ears  of  corn.  Some  of  them  had  four.  So  fertile  is  the 
soil  and  so  propitious  is  the  climate  that  it  requires  only 
three  months  from  the  time  of  planting  for  the  maize  to 
attain  maturity.  Three  crops  a year  are  common,  but  even 
four  are  possible.  There  is  no  fixed  season  for  planting. 
The  husbandman  may  sow  and  reap  in  every  month  of  the 
year.  While  one  man  is  planting,  his  neighbor  in  the  adjoin- 
ing field  is  collecting  into  his  granary  the  same  kind  of  crop. 
No  plowing  is  necessary.  When  a clearing  is  effected,  all 
that  is  necessary  is  to  make  a hole  in  the  ground  with  a 
pointed  stick  and  deposit  the  seed.  Three  months  later, 
with  but  little  care,  the  field  is  ready  for  the  harvest,  thus 
rivaling  in  fertility  the  Elysian  Fields,  of  which  Hesiod 
writes : 

“And  yearly  thrice  with  sweet  luxuriance  crown’d, 

Springs  the  ripe  harvest  from  the  teeming  ground.” 


385 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


There  was  a time  when  the  tobacco  produced  in  these 
parts,  especially  in  the  neighborhood  of  Tarapota,  was 
justly  famous,  even  in  the  markets  of  Europe.  But  un- 
fortunately, the  plant  is  now  rarely  cultivated  and  then 
chiefly  for  domestic  consumption.  G-rapes  grow  wild  here 
and  the  wine  produced  from  them  is  excellent.  The  low- 
lands are  well  adapted  for  the  cultivation  of  rice,  but  so 
few  are  the  tillers  of  the  soil  and  so  difficult  is  it  to  find  the 
requisite  laborers,  that  it  can  be  imported  from  China  at 
a less  price  than  it  can  be  raised  here.  Wheat,  barley  and 
potatoes  also  flourish,  but  one  rarely  sees  a field  of  these 
food-stuffs. 

“Faltan  brazos” — “laborers  are  wanting,”  was  the  an- 
swer given  to  my  question  regarding  the  absence  of  many 
plants  and  vegetables  which,  considering  the  marvelous 
richness  of  the  soil,  one  would  expect  to  find  here  in  rare 
abundance.  The  cholos  and  Indians,  who  are  satisfied  with 
little,  make  shift,  like  their  ancestors,  with  a small  chacra 
— plantation — of  yucca,  maize  and  plantains.  This  sup- 
plies them  with  all  the  food  they  require,  while  the  ubiq- 
uitous trapiche — sugar-mill — provides  them  with  the  aguar- 
diente which  is  consumed  in  such  large  quantities  by  all 
classes.  It  is,  indeed,  a matter  of  surprise  to  the  foreigner 
to  see  what  a large  amount  of  alcoholic  liquor  is  used  in 
the  tropics.  But  its  evil  effects  are  in  a great  measure 
counteracted  by  copious  perspiration.  Half  the  quantity 
that  could  be  taken  with  impunity  in  the  lowlands,  would 
be  very  pernicious  in  the  cool  regions  of  the  sierra.  Hence 
the  old  maxim,  attributed  to  the  Jesuits,  “ En  pais  caliente, 
aguardiente;  en  pais  frio,  agua  fria” — “In  the  warm  coun- 
try, brandy;  in  the  cold  country,  cold  water.” 

The  woods  through  which  we  passed  were  a natural 
gallery  of  pictures  of  rarest  sylvan  beauty,  a riot  of  lush, 
growing  plants  and  forest  monarchs.  Palms  and  ferns, 
gorgeous  heliconias  and  wild-pineapples  with  their  rich 
amber-red  fruits,  were  a succession  of  delights  which  made 
us  quite  oblivious  of  the  passing  hours.  Our  path  under 

386 


A PERUVIAN  PARADISE 


the  overhanging  branches  was  like  a great  forest  aisle 
dappled  with  flowers  and  sunshine.  Ever  and  anon  there 
was 

“A  flash  of  harmless  lightning, 

A mist  of  rainbow  dyes,” 

and  we  were  then  conscious  of  the  swiftly-darting  humming 
bird,  the  beauteous  colibri  which  imparts  such  life  and  color 
to  tropical  nature.  Then  silently  and  leisurely  there  wafted 
before  us 

“Leafless,  stemless,  floating  flower 
From  a rainbow’s  scattered  bower,” 

and  we  recognized  the  glorious  Morplio  cypris,  the  radiant- 
blue  butterfly  eight  inches  across  the  wing,  whose  name 
recalls  both  the  goddess  of  love  and  beauty  and  her  cher- 
ished isle  in  the  cerulean  sea. 

Further  afield,  in  a bright,  grass-covered  glade,  was  a 
veritable  shower  of  related  species  of  every  form  and 
size  and  hue,  some  floating  airily  along  our  path  with  a 
gentle,  undulating  motion,  others  gliding  with  bird-like 
wing  over  a bank  of  flowers,  others  still  flashing  so  swiftly 
by  that  it  was  difficult  for  the  eye  to  follow  their  mazy 
course.  Instead  of  the  plain  yellows,  subdued  browns  and 
dashes  of  red,  orange  and  blue,  that  characterize  our  north- 
ern species,  there  was  a brilliant  display  of  emerald-green, 
cobalt-blue  and  flaming  crimson,  relieved  by  dark  satiny 
borders,  or  backgrounds  of  velvety-black.  Sometimes  the 
wings  were  decked  with  scales  of  deepest  green  or  red,  or 
with  spangles  of  burnished  silver  or  molten  gold,  while  at 
others  there  was  an  iridescent  play  of  colors,  like  that  of 
mother-of-pearl  or  richest  opal. 

It  is  among  these  numerous  and  vari-colored  species  of 
butterflies  that  one  finds  some  of  the  most  striking  illustra- 
tions of  that  peculiar  phenomenon  of  animal  life  known  as 
mimicry.  So  closely  do  certain  unprotected  species  re- 
semble others  which  are  protected  from  their  enemies  by 

387 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


peculiar  tastes  and  odors  that  even  the  professional  en- 
tomologist is  not  always  able  at  first  sight  to  distinguish 
one  class  from  the  other.  And  so  perfect  is  the  mimicry 
that  it  extends  not  only  to  form,  color  and  habits,  but  even 
to  the  dots  and  bands  and  veins  of  the  wings.  “It  may  be 
said,  therefore,”  writes  Bates,  “that  on  these  expanded 
membranes  Nature  writes,  as  on  a tablet,  the  story  of  the 
modification  of  the  species,  so  truly  do  all  the  changes  of 
the  organization  register  themselves  thereon.  Moreover, 
the  same  color-patterns  of  the  wings  generally  show  with 
great  regularity,  the  degrees  of  blood  relationship  of  the 
species.  As  the  laws  of  Nature  must  be  the  same  for  all 
beings,  the  conclusions  furnished  by  this  group  of  insects 
must  be  applicable  to  the  whole  organic  world ; therefore  the 
study  of  butterflies- — creatures  selected  as  the  types  of  air- 
iness and  frivolity — instead  of  being  despised,  will  some 
day  be  valued  as  one  of  the  most  important  branches  of 
biological  science.”  1 

But  more  remarkable  than  their  beauty  of  color  or  their 
variety  of  form  or  power  of  mimicry  is  the  extraordinary 
number  of  species  of  these  gorgeous  insects  found  in  the 
tropical  zone.  It  surpasses  by  far  the  number  found  in 
our  temperate  climes.  So  great  is  it  that  one  may  collect 
from  sixty  to  seventy  species  in  a single  day,  while  in  and 
around  the  city  of  Para  on  the  Amazon,  the  number  of 
species  already  catalogued  exceeds  seven  hundred.  “When 
we  consider  that  only  sixty-four  species  of  butterflies  have 
been  found  in  Britain  and  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  in 
Germany,  many  of  which  are  the  result  of  the  work  of 
hundreds  of  collectors  for  a long  series  of  years,  we  see  at 
once  the  immense  wealth  of  the  equatorial  zone  in  this 
form  of  life.”  2 

Not  far  from  the  butterfly  glade,  we  came  upon  another 
exhibition  of  insect  life  which  was  fully  as  interesting  as 

1 The  Naturalist  on  the  Amazons,  Chap.  XII. 

2 Natural  Selection  and  Tropical  Nature,  p.  275,  by  Alfred  Russel  Wallace, 
London,  1891. 


388 


A PERUVIAN  PARADISE 


that  of  the  beautiful  lepidopters  just  described.  There 
was,  however,  no  beauty  of  form  or  color  in  this  second 
exhibition.  Far  from  it.  It  was  a termitarium — a colony 
of  termites  or  white  ants.  It  was  too  large  to  call  a nest, 
for  it  was  a bulky  hillock,  fifteen  feet  in  diameter,  and 
nearly  eight  feet  high.  I had  often,  in  other  parts  of  the 
tropics,  seen  similar  ant  hills,  but  this  one  was  of  unusual 
proportions  and  remarkable  for  its  myriads  of  feverishly 
active  inmates. 

They  are  called  ants,  although  they  are  so  different  in 
structure  and  habits  from  true  ants  that  they  belong  to  a 
different  order.  Termites  are  neuropterous,  while  true 
ants  are  hymenopterous  insects.  But  the  members  of  the 
two  orders  resemble  one  another  in  being  endowed  with 
highly  specialized  instincts,  and  in  living  in  highly  organ- 
ized social  communities.  The  white  ant  community,  how- 
ever, is  usually  regarded  by  naturalists  as  belonging  to  a 
higher  type  than  that  of  the  true  ants  so  familiar  in  north- 
ern latitudes. 

Although  white  ants  inhabit  all  parts  of  the  tropics  it 
is  in  the  equatorial  regions  of  South  America  where  they 
are  most  abundant  and  where  they  exhibit  the  largest  num- 
ber of  species.  Their  nests,  according  to  the  species,  are 
found  in  the  branches  and  under  the  bark  of  trees  and  in 
peculiar  paper-like  structures  resembling  immense  hornet 
nests.  They  also  occur  under  the  ground,  where  they  con- 
struct complicated  chambers  varying  from  the  size  of  a 
small  basket  to  that  of  an  incipient  catacomb.  The  upper 
parts  of  these  formicaries  are  in  certain  places  so  numer- 
ous that  they  look  like  haycocks  in  a harvest  field,  and  their 
sugar-loaf  roofs  are  so  large  that  they  might  at  a distance 
he  mistaken  for  Indian  cabins.  If  a human  edifice  were  to 
bear  the  same  proportion  to  one  of  the  larger  termitaria 
as  does  the  size  of  a man  to  that  of  a white  ant,  it  would  be 
a mile  high.  And  similarly,  if  a man’s  strength,  in  pro- 
portion to  his  bulk,  were  as  great  as  that  of  a termite,  he 
could  carry  nearly  a ton. 


389 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


But  the  size  of  the  ant  houses  and  the  strength  of  their 
builders — wonderful  as  they  are — are  far  less  marvelous 
than  their  extraordinary  numbers  and  social  organization. 

It  has  been  calculated  that  the  progeny  of  one  queen  ant 
numbers  no  less  than  fifty  million  individuals  and  that  a 
single  termitarium,  occupied  by  several  different  colonies, 
sometimes  contains  as  many  subjects  as  the  thickly  popu- 
lated Chinese  empire. 

More  astonishing  still  is  the  fact  that  all  the  inhabitants, 
except  the  king  and  queen,  of  these  busy  communities  are 
blind  and  always  work  in  the  dark.  But  it  is  these  blind 
subjects,  called  “neuters,”  because  they  are  sexless,  that 
do  all  the  work  of  the  community.  They  are  the  builders 
and  foragers  and  nurses  of  the  young  ants  that  multiply  at 
the  prodigious  rate  of  eighty  thousand  a day. 

Yet,  numerous  as  they  are,  there  are  no  sluggards,  or 
criminals  or  degenerates  among  them.  All  labor  contin- 
uously for  the  common  good,  and  with  as  much  order  and 
system  as  if  they  were  under  the  direction  of  some  govern- 
ing board  or  communal  spirit.  But  all  is  absolute  indi- 
vidualism, for,  so  far  as  is  known,  there  is  no  governing 
class,  and  yet  all  the  beneficent  effects  of  government  are 
wrought  out  with  the  regularity  and  precision  of  an  auto- 
matic machine.  To  such  a community  one  could  with  truth 
apply  the  words  of  Sir  Thomas  Moore,  who  writes,  “But  in 
Eutopia,  where  every  man  has  a right  to  everything,  they 
do  all  know  that  if  care  is  taken  to  keep  the  stores  full,  no 
private  man  can  want  anything,  for  among  them  there  is 
no  unequal  distribution,  and  although  no  man  has  anything, 
yet  they  are  all  rich.  ’ ’ 

Well  then  could  Pliny  in  contemplating  an  ant  hill,  ex- 
claim, “What  reason,  what  power,  what  bewildering  per- 
fection! ” 1 And  it  was  the  consideration  of  the  extraor- 
dinary activity  of  ants  and  their  wonderfully  diversified 
instincts,  that  caused  Darwin  to  declare  that  “The  brain  of 

i In  his  tam  parvis,  atque  tam  nullis,  quae  ratio  quanta  vis,  quam  inex- 
tricabilis  perfectio!  Eistorice  Naturalis,  Lib.  XI,  2. 

390 


A PERUVIAN  PARADISE 

an  ant  is  one  of  the  most  marvelous  atoms  of  matter  in  the 
world,  perhaps  more  so  than  the  brain  of  man.”  1 

Ah,  if  the  people  living  in  this  favored  region  had  only 
a small  fraction  of  the  energy  and  industry  of  the  termites 
of  the  community  just  referred  to,  the  paradise  which  so 
far  has  been  little  more  than  potential  would  soon  become 
an  actuality!  Nature  has  provided  man  with  a soil  that 
is  as  fertile  as  that  of  the  Nile  valley,  with  a climate  like 
that  of  the  Fortunate  Islands,  and  with  a variety  of  fruit 
and  flower,  of  useful  plant  and  tree,  that  is  unrivaled  in  any 
other  part  of  the  world. 

And  not  only  is  this  the  case  with  the  land  in  the  imme- 
diate neighborhood  of  Rioja  and  Moyobamba.  The  same 
can  be  said  of  tens  of  thousands  of  square  miles  of  land  in 
the  Peruvian  montana.  The  Pampa  del  Sacramento,  that 
extensive  territory  bounded  by  the  Ucayali,  the  Huallaga 
and  the  Maranon,  has  long  been  famous  for  its  extraor- 
dinary fertility  and  natural  resources.  And  yet  it  is  com- 
paratively uninhabited,  and  its  value  as  a place  for  settle- 
ment is  almost  unknown,  even  among  Peruvians  themselves. 

One  of  the  chief  reasons  why  it  has  not  been  colonized 
long  since,  is  because  it  is  so  isolated  and  so  far  away 
from  suitable  means  of  communication  with  the  rest  of  the 
world.  But  when  the  Paita-Maranon  railway  shall  have 
been  constructed — and  the  sooner  the  better  for  the  prom- 
ising land  of  Peru — her  wealth  and  resources  will  be 
doubled  and  quadrupled.  For  there  is  no  doubt  in  my  mind 
that  the  future  will  prove  that  the  most  productive  part 
of  this  great  republic  is  the  Parte  del  Oriente,  that  im- 
mense tract  bounded  by  the  eastern  slope  of  the  Andes  and 
the  western  frontier  of  Brazil. 

But  confining  ourselves  to  the  small  area  of  land  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  Rioja  and  Moyobamba,  the  potential 
paradise  here  existent  could  soon  be  made  actual  if  immi- 
gration were  only  started  in  this  direction.  And  it  should 
not,  it  seems,  be  a difficult  matter  to  secure  emigrants  from 

i The  Descent  of  Man,  Vol.  I,  p.  145,  London,  1871. 

391 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Europe,  where  the  conditions  of  existence  are  daily  be- 
coming more  trying,  if  the  proper  measures  were  taken. 
The  lot  of  such  emigrants  would,  in  the  territory  under  con- 
sideration, be  incomparably  better  than  it  is  now  where  the 
struggle  for  life  is  so  acute. 

An  electric  railroad  less  than  a hundred  miles  long  and 
operated  by  water-power,  which  is  here  unlimited,  would 
put  this  Peruvian  paradise  in  connection  with  Yurimaguas, 
which  is  accessible  by  steamers  of  considerable  size  and 
draft.  Two  days’  journey  below  Yurimaguas  is  Iquitos,  on 
the  Amazon,  where  there  are  ocean  steamers  for  Europe 
and  the  United  States. 

Some  of  my  readers  may  think  me  guilty  of  exaggera- 
tion in  the  account  I have  above  given  of  this  prospective 
paradise  of  Peru,  but  I have  endeavored  to  describe  only 
what  I have  seen  and  to  avoid  stating  anything  which  I 
do  not  believe  to  be  true.  Here  the  earth,  as  Jerrold  said 
of  a certain  part  of  Australia,  “is  so  kind,  that  just  tickle 
her  with  a hoe  and  she  laughs  with  a harvest.” 

While  indulging  in  the  foregoing  reflections,  we  were  ap- 
proaching the  place  we  had  so  long  yearned  to  see — the 
quaint  old  town  of  Moyobamba.  When  we  were  within 
about  a mile  of  it,  a young  uniformed  officer  on  horseback 
approached  me,  and  introducing  himself  as  the  aid  of  the 
prefect  of  Moyobamba,  said  that  he  had  been  delegated  by 
this  functionary  to  meet  me  and  escort  me  to  the  prefecture, 
where  I was  to  remain  as  a guest  until  I was  ready  to  con- 
tinue my  journey  towards  the  Amazon.  The  prefect,  the 
officer  declared,  would  have  come  in  person  to  greet  me, 
but  having  been  absent  from  his  office,  he  was  not  aware  of 
my  coming  until  it  was  too  late. 

“Verily,”  I said  to  myself,  “the  farther  one  gets  into 
the  heart  of  Peru,  the  kinder  and  more  courteous  their 
people  become.”  One  can  truthfully  say  of  them  what 
Ulloa  writes  of  the  old  nobility  of  Lima,  “Courtesy  shines 
in  all  their  actions,  and  their  complaisance  to  strangers  is 
without  limits.  The  reception  they  give  them  is  equally 

392 


A PERUVIAN  PARADISE 


free  from  flattery  and  a haughty  reserve;  so  that  Euro- 
peans, whether  they  visit  them  out  of  curiosity  or  com- 
mercial motives,  are  charmed  with  their  probity,  their  po- 
liteness, candor  and  magnificence.”  1 

The  prefect  was  awaiting  my  arrival  at  the  front  door 
of  the  Prefectura,  and,  when  I dismounted,  greeted  me  with 
the  cordiality  of  an  old  friend.  “You  are  welcome,”  he 
said,  “to  Moyobamba.  But  what  a quick  trip  you  have 
made  from  Chachapoyas.  The  prefect  of  that  place  tele- 
graphed me  that  you  were  coming,  but  I did  not  expect  you 
until  to-morrow  or  the  day  after.  Had  I thought  you  would 
arrive  to-day,  I should  have  done  myself  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  you  outside  the  city  instead  of  sending  my  aid. 

“The  prefect  of  Chachapoyas  also  asked  me  to  have  a 
number  of  cargueros  2 in  readiness  for  you,  as  he  said  you 
desired  to  hasten  on  to  Balsapuerto  without  delay.  The 
cargueros  are  already  secured,  but  I cannot  permit  you  to 
depart  at  once,  as  you  have  planned.  You  must  see  some- 
thing of  Moyobamba,  and  you  must  give  our  people  an 
opportunity  of  greeting  you,  at  least.  It  is  not  every  day 
that  a countryman  of  yours  comes  to  this  distant  part  of 
Peru.  In  fact,  so  far  as  my  information  goes,  you  are  the 
first  writer  from  the  United  States  to  journey  from  the 
Pacific  to  the  Amazon  by  way  of  Cajamarca  and  Moyo- 
bamba. Lieutenant  Herndon,  more  than  a half  century 
ago,  crossed  the  Cordilleras  several  hundred  miles  farther 
south  and  made  his  way  to  the  Amazon  by  way  of  the  Hual- 
laga,  but  he  did  not  visit  Moyobamba.  Nearly  twenty  years 
ago  a traveler  from  your  country,  Major  Kirby  by  name, 
reached  the  Amazon,  on  his  way  from  Lima,  by  going  down 
the  Urubamba  and  Yucayali,  a route  that  took  him  still 
farther  away  from  our  town. 

“Few  travelers  seem  to  be  willing  to  undertake  the  long 
journey  by  mule,  which  you  have  so  happily  terminated. 
In  view  of  all  these  facts,  and  of  the  desire  of  our  people 
of  having  an  opportunity  of  making  your  acquaintance,  I 

1 Op.  eit.,  Vol.  II,  pp.  56,  57.  2 Porters. 

393 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


have  presumed  that  you  would  be  willing  to  modify  your 
itinerary  somewhat  and  accept  our  hospitality  for  at  least 
a few  days,  if  you  cannot  remain  longer.” 

Needless  to  say,  such  cordiality  was  irresistible.  In- 
stead of  pushing  on  to  Balsapuerto  the  following  day,  as  I 
had  purposed  doing,  I spent  the  greater  part  of  a week  at 
the  Prefectura  and  was  glad  I did  so,  for  it  gave  me  an  op- 
portunity of  meeting  some  of  the  most  hospitable  and  charm- 
ing people  that  it  was  my  privilege  to  find  anywhere  in 
South  America. 

There  was  a continued  series  of  receptions  and  visits  in 
the  capital  of  the  department  of  San  Martin,  and  of  ex- 
cursions into  its  interesting  environs.  We  boated  on  the 
Mayo,  an  affluent  of  the  Huallaga,  and  visited  a number  of 
the  chacras  and  trapiches  that  dot  its  fertile  banks.  Every- 
where we  went  we  found  the  same  richness  of  soil,  the  same 
luxuriance  of  vegetation,  the  same  multiplicity  of  fruit  and 
flower  that  had  so  deeply  impressed  me  in  and  around 
Rioja.  In  garden  and  field,  in  stream  and  forest  there  was 
the  same  Eden  in  posse;  the  same  marvelous  profusion  of 
everything  grateful  to  sight  and  taste  and  smell,  which  we 
are  wont  to  associate  with  the  home  of  our  first  parents  as 
depicted  in  the  noble  verses  of  Paradise  Lost. 

But  here,  as  in  other  parts  of  this  favored  region,  as  in 
Rioja,  as  in  the  Pampa  del  Sacramento,  the  paradise  is  but 
inchoate.  Nature  has  done  her  part,  but  man  thus  far  has 
contributed  but  little  towards  the  development  of  its  mar- 
velous possibilities.  If  one  seeks  the  reason  of  this  neglect 
and  of  the  backward  condition  of  agriculture  and  other 
industries,  one  receives  the  same  answer  that  is  always 
given  to  a similar  question  in  the  region  of  the  eastern 
Andes,  “Faltan  brazos” — “laborers  are  wanting.”  I have 
heard  the  same  reply  in  the  llanos  of  Venezuela  and  Colom- 
bia and  the  tablelands  of  Ecuador  and  Bolivia.  Men  are 
everywhere  needed  to  develop  the  boundless  resources  of 
mine,  plantation  and  forest;  but  nowhere,  on  this  mighty 
continent,  is  there  more  demand  for  human  labor  than  in 

394 


A PERUVIAN  PARADISE 


the  montana  of  Pern.  And  nowhere  will  the  reward  of 
labor  be  more  certain,  or  the  remuneration  greater  and 
more  enduring. 

But  here,  as  elsewhere,  means  of  communication  are  an 
indispensable  prerequisite.  It  is  on  account  of  the  lack  of 
suitable  highways  of  commerce  that  the  population  of 
Moyobamba  is  to-day  far  less  than  it  was  a generation  ago, 
and  that  it  is  still  decreasing  at  an  alarming  rate.  To-day 
there  are  many  vacant  houses,  while  others  are  crumbling 
into  ruins.  Whole  families  annually  leave  the  place,  while 
the  proportion  of  women  to  men  actually  living  here  is  four 
or  five  to  one. 

Where  are  the  men,  I asked.  “Estan  al  interior” — “they 
have  gone  to  the  interior;”  gone  to  seek  fortune  in  the  rub- 
ber forests  of  the  Purus,  the  Ucayali,  the  Napo  and  the 
Putumayo ; gone  to  Yurimaguas,  the  head  of  navigation  on 
the  Huallaga,  and  to  Iquitos,  the  enterprising  and  prosper- 
ous young  city  on  the  Amazon. 

As  I wandered  through  the  streets  of  Moyobamba  and 
saw  its  declining  glory,  a feeling  of  sadness  came  over  me. 
How  had  the  primeval  promise  and  hope  of  the  Garden- 
Plain  1 failed  of  fruition,  or  slumbered  through  the  tedious 
generations ! When  Alonso  de  Alvardo  planted  his  colony 
here  nearly  four  centuries  ago,  he  had  reason  to  believe  that 
he  was  laying  the  foundations  of  a city  with  a splendid 
future.  Moyobamba  has  indeed  the  basic  elements  of  a 
great  city.  Its  elevated  mesa,  laved  by  the  waters  of  the 
picturesque  Mayo ; its  climate  always  salubrious  and  agree- 
able; its  location  in  the  midst  of  the  most  fruitful  land  in 
the  world,  all  testify  to  the  wisdom  of  Alvardo ’s  choice. 
And  so  sure  of  its  ultimate  greatness  was  the  old  conquis- 
tador that  he  planned  the  city  on  a magnificent  scale,  fore- 
casting a metropolis  that  in  time  should  be  a worthy  capital 
seat  of  the  eastern  part  of  golden  Peru. 

1 The  name  Moyobamba  is  composed  of  two  Quichua  words,  Muya — garden — 
and  pampa — plain— and  is  a most  appropriate  epithet  for  this  Eden  in  the 
wilderness. 


395 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Even  to-day  Moyobamba  covers  nearly  as  much  ground 
as  Lima,  though  its  population  is  but  a small  fraction  of 
that  of  the  City  of  the  Kings.  Although  comprising  fewer 
than  five  thousand  permanent  residents,  it  has  the  propor- 
tions of  a great  city.  Its  streets  are  broad  and  ample ; its 
homes  have  each  a spacious  garden  adapted  to  yield  the 
choicest  produce  of  tropical  and  temperate  zones.  Grapes 
are  here  that  rival  the  best  of  Italy;  citrous  products,  in 
profusion,  that  equal  the  choicest  of  Cuba  or  Mexico.  And 
as  I contemplated  the  splendors  of  flower  and  fruit;  the 
lilac  and  magenta  of  the  orchid ; the  purple  of  the  grape  and 
the  gold  of  the  orange,  I was  minded  of  Goethe’s  graphic 
word-picture  of  Sokontala.  How  well,  indeed,  it  would 
portray  Moyobamba,  if  Nature’s  lavish  prodigality  were 
even  but  feebly  seconded  by  the  industry  of  man.  Thus 
sings  the  poet: 

“Willst  du  die  Bliithe  des  Friihen,  die  Friichte  des  Spateren 
Yahres, 

Willst  du  was  reizt  und  entziickt,  willst  du  was  sattigt  und  nahst, 

Willst  du  den  Himmel,  die  Erde  mit  einem  Namen  begreifen; 

Nenn’  ich  Sakontala,  Dich,  und  so  ist  alles  gesagt.”  3 

Goethe’s  illustrious  countryman,  Alexander  von  Hum- 
boldt, in  speaking  of  the  future  of  the  Amazon  basin,  de- 
clared, “It  is  there  that  the  civilization  of  the  globe  will  be 
one  day  concentrated.”2  Had  he  explored  the  eastern 
versant  of  the  Andes  from  the  Pongo  de  Manseriche  to  the 
southern  border  of  the  Pampa  del  Sacramento,  he  would, 
I doubt  not,  have  located  the  capital  of  the  world’s  future 
civilization  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Peruvian  Sakontala 
— fairest  Muyapampa. 

1 “Wouldst  thou  the  blossoms  of  spring,  as  well  as  the  fruits  of  the  autumn, 

Wouldst  thou  what  charms  and  delights,  wouldst  thou  what  plenteously 
feeds, 

Wouldst  thou  include  both  heaven  and  earth  in  one  designation, 

All  that  is  needed  is  done,  when  I,  Sakontala  name.” 

2 “C’est  1ft  que  tot  ou  tard,  la  civilization  du  globe  doit  se  concentrer  un 
jour.” 


396 


A PERUVIAN  PARADISE 


Contemplating  this  luxurious  Eden — Eden  suntuosa — 
the  Peruvian  poet  Pardo  y Alliago  exclaims:  “Does  not 
such  a profusion  of  gifts,  such  richness,  evince  that  the  will 
of  God  holds  centuries  of  felicity  and  greatness  in  reserve 
for  Peru?  But  to  combat  our  negligence,  He  prudently 
reserved  the  completion  of  His  work  and  made  the  har- 
vesting of  the  heaven-given  fruit  contingent  on  the  desire 
of  man.”  1 

The  day  will  come,  and  it  may  not  be  far  distant,  when 
the  dream  of  the  poet  shall  be  realized ; when  the  prophecy 
of  the  man  of  science  shall  be  fulfilled;  when  rehabilitated 
Moyobamba,  fertile  in  harvests  and  flocks,  shall  be  an  em- 
porium of  earth’s  bounty  and  a Paradise  of  Delights. 

i“Tal  profusion  de  dones,  tal  rlqueza, 

La  voluntad  de  Dios  no  hacen  patente 
Que  siglos  de  ventura  j grandeza 
Guarda  al  Peru  . . . ? 

Mas  para  eombatir  nuestra  tibieza 
El  fin  de  su  obra  reservo  prudente; 

Y del  mortal  en  com  end  6 al  anhelo 
El  fruto  cosechar  que  formb  el  cielo.” 

El  Peru. 


397 


CHAPTER  XX 


TRAMPING  THROUGH  A TROPICAL  FOREST 

The  days  passed  so  quickly  and  pleasantly  in  Moyobamba 
that  I was  scarcely  aware  of  the  flight  of  time.  The  pre- 
fect was  a capital  entertainer  as  well  as  a most  genial  host. 
But  be  was  more  than  that.  While  I was  enjoying  to  the 
fullest,  bis  bountiful  hospitality,  be  was  quietly,  but  with- 
out my  knowledge,  giving  directions  regarding  my  journey 
to  Yurimaguas. 

The  first  part  of  it — to  Balsapuerto — was  through  the 
dense,  uninhabited  forests  of  the  montana.  This,  with  the 
exception  of  the  first  day’s  journey,  had  to  be  made  afoot; 
for  the  greater  part  of  the  trail  is  impassable  for  horses 
or  mules.  The  time  usually  allowed  for  the  trip  is  five  or 
six  days.  In  the  case  of  heavy  rains  and  swollen  rivers, 
a longer  time  is  required.  From  Balsapuerto  to  Yurima- 
guas the  traveler  goes  by  water  in  a dugout,  and  can,  when 
going  down  stream,  cover  the  distance  between  the  two 
places  in  two  or  three  days. 

Although  I had  brought  with  me  from  Lima  a liberal 
supply  of  provisions  for  our  journey  through  this  part  of 
the  montana,  the  prefect  was  determined  that  there  should 
be  nothing  wanting  that  could  contribute  to  our  comfort 
and  enjoyment.  Accordingly,  when  the  day  of  departure 
came,  I found  before  the  prefectura  a dozen  cargueros — 
cholos  and  Indians — who  were  to  transport  my  baggage 
and  the  extra  store  of  provisions  that  the  prefect  had  or- 
dered for  the  party.  In  addition  to  the  cargueros  there 
were  five  soldiers  in  charge  of  the  bright  and  gallant  young 
officer  who  had,  as  the  prefect’s  representative,  come  out 
to  meet  me  as  I was  approaching  Moyobamba.  These  men 

398 


TRAMPING  THROUGH  A TROPICAL  FOREST 


were  to  serve  as  my  escort,  to  look  after  my  tent,  the  prep- 
aration of  meals,  and  the  general  welfare  of  the  party 
during  their  march  through  the  wilderness. 

“These  officers  and  soldiers,”  said  the  prefect,  “are  at 
your  disposition  as  long  as  they  can  be  of  any  service  to 
you.  They  have  orders  to  accompany  you  to  Iquit'os  and, 
if  you  desire  it,  they  may  go  with  you  to  New  York.” 

From  what  I had  heard  about  the  difficulties  and  dan- 
gers and  delays  of  the  journey  between  Moyobamba  and 
Iquitos,  I had  looked  forward  to  this  part  of  my  transcon- 
tinental trip  with  some  degree  of  apprehension.  When, 
however,  I saw  all  that  the  thoughtful  and  generous  prefect' 
had  done  to  minimize  any  possible  difficulties  or  delays, 
any  apprehensions  I may  have  entertained  were  instantly 
dissipated  and  I now  looked  forward  to  the  time  to  be  spent 
in  the  forest  and  in  the  dugout  on  the  tributaries  of  the 
Huallaga,  as  days  of  genuine  pleasure  and  rarest  delight. 
And  as  the  sequel  will  show,  I was  not  disappointed. 

As  had  been  done  at  Cajamarca,  Chachapoyas  and  else- 
where, the  prefect,  his  staff  and  a number  of  friends  ac-  • 
companied  me  several  miles  before  saying  farewell.  But 
before  he  left  us,  he  wished  to  assure  himself  that  all  his 
instructions  had  been  carried  out,  and,  being  satisfied  on 
this  score,  he  called  the  officer  in  charge  and  the  chief  of 
the  cargueros  before  him,  and  in  the  most  earnest  manner 
commended  to  their  care  and  attention  his  departing  guest. 
Indeed,  had  I been  his  own  brother,  he  could  not  have  been 
more  considerate  or  generous,  and  as  he  pronounced  the 
final  words,  “ Adios,  el  cielo  vaya  con  TJd,”  I felt  that  I was 
taking  leave  of  one  who  possessed  in  an  eminent  degree 
‘ ‘ all  the  blazon  of  a gentleman.  ’ ’ 

Soon  after  leaving  my  noble  host,  we  were  in  the  heart  of 
the  forest  primeval — the  German  Urwald — and  could,  with 
little  flight  of  fancy,  imagine  we  were  traversing  the  dark 
and  trackless  woods  of  the  fore-world.  Hour  after  hour 
we  marched  in  single  file  over  the  narrow,  and  at  times, 
imperceptible  trail.  Scarcely  a word  was  spoken.  The 

399 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Indians  of  the  party  were  naturally  quiet  and  rarely  had 
anything  to  say,  while  my  escort,  probably  divining  my 
wish  to  be  left  in  undisturbed  communion  with  Nature  in  her 
mysterious  and  majestic  sanctuary,  did  not  make  any  at- 
tempt to  engage  me  in  conversation  unless  I spoke  first. 
Then  they  were  all  courtesy  and  readily  proffered  all  in- 
formation and  assistance  in  their  power. 

We  stopped  about  noonday  for  luncheon,  after  which  we 
pushed  forward  as  rapidly  as  the  condition  of  the  trail 
would  permit.  It  was  over  a succession  of  steep  hills  and 
deep  ravines,  and  at  times,  by  reason  of  much  fallen  timber, 
our  progress  was  exceedingly  slow.  Fortunately,  the 
weather  from  early  morning  until  about  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  was  all  that  could  have  been  desired.  The  tem- 
perature was  mild  and  the  sky  overhead  was  clear,  al- 
though rarely  visible  on  account  of  the  thick  canopy  of 
foliage  that  concealed  it  from  view. 

But  suddenly,  dark  lowering  clouds  appeared  in  front  of 
us,  and,  almost  before  I could  unstrap  my  poncho,  the  rain 
• was  falling  in  torrents.  This  forcibly  brought  to  mind 
the  fact,  so  frequently  observed  in  the  tropics,  that  a clear 
sky  and  a transparent  atmosphere  are  no  index  of  a rainless 
day.  For  frequently  the  heavens  may  be  bright  and  cloud- 
less in  the  morning,  and  a few  hours  later  there  will  be  a 
heavy  downpour.  This  circumstance  has  given  rise  in 
Peru  to  the  popular  saying, 

“En  cielo  de  sierra, 

Cojera  de  perro, 

Y lagrimas  de  mujer, 

No  hay  que  creer.  ’ ’ 1 

Finally,  after  a hard  day’s  ride,  we  arrived  at  our  stop- 
ing- place  for  the  evening.  We  were  seven  and  a half 
leagues  from  Moyobamba,  and  had  made  what  my  escort 
called  a jornada  grande — a long  journey — so  long  that 
travelers  usually  give  two  days  to  it. 

i “Distrust  a mountain  sky,  a limping  dog,  and  a woman’s  tears.” 

400 


TRAMPING  THROUGH  A TROPICAL  FOREST 


Our  tambo — tambito  the  cargueros  called  it,  as  it  was 
so  small — consisted  of  a single  palm-thatched  shed,  open 
on  all  sides,  and  scarcely  large  enough  to  shelter  more  than 
three  or  four  persons.  But  this  did  not  matter.  In  less 
than  half  an  hour  two  other  tambitos  were  erected  by  some 
of  the  cargueros,  while  others  were  busily  engaged  in  pre- 
paring their  frugal  evening  repast.  My  tent  was  soon 
pitched  by  my  ever-willing  escort,  and  it  was  not  long  be- 
fore our  skillful  cook  had  spread  before  us  as  appetizing 
a meal  as  any  one  could  desire. 

Never  did  I realize  so  fully,  as  on  this  occasion,  what  a 
wonderful  thing  it  is  to  be  able  to  start  a fire.  It  appears 
simple  to  us,  because  modern  science  has  removed  the  chief 
difficulties  that  were  formerly  in  the  way.  But  it  was  not 
always  so.  It  is  only  when  we  reflect  on  the  matter  that 
we  realize  what  an  important  step  in  human  progress  was 
made  when  man  discovered  the  art  of  making  fire  at  will. 
The  Greeks  considered  it  as  so  extraordinary  that  they 
pictured  Prometheus  as  stealing  it  from  heaven.  And 
among  the  things  that  excited  Darwin’s  admiration  during 
his  voyage  around  the  world,  was  the  ease  with  which  the 
Gauchos  of  South  America  and  the  South  Sea  Islanders 
were  able  to  start  a fire  by  rubbing  one  piece  of  wood 
against  another. 

Owing  to  the  difficulty  of  keeping  friction  matches  suf- 
ficiently dry  in  the  humid  atmosphere  of  the  montana,  our 
men  used  flint  and  steel  whenever  fire  was  required.  But 
their  skill  was  not  so  much  manifested  in  starting  a fire 
by  this  primitive  method,  which  is  employed  in  other  parts 
of  the  world  as  well,  as  in  obtaining  it  when  everything 
was  dripping  wet.  It  mattered  not  how  long  it  had  been 
raining,  or  how  thoroughly  everything  was  soaked,  they 
were  always  able  to  have  a fire — they  called  it  candela — 
in  full  blast  on  a few  minutes’  notice. 

Our  second  day  in  the  forest  primeval  was,  to  me  at 
least,  one  of  peculiar  interest  and  fascination.  The  agua- 
ceron — heavy  rainfall — that  had  prevailed  during  the 

401 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


whole  of  the  preceding  night,  had  contributed  greatly  to 
the  volume  of  the  creciente — flood — already  existing,  and 
of  which  we  had  heard  such  ominous  reports  while  yet  in 
the  sierra.  The  rivers  were  so  swollen  that  at  times  they 
seemed  absolutely  impassable;  but,  thanks  to  our  lusty 
cargueros,  who  seemed  familiar  with  every  bowlder  in  their 
rocky  beds,  we  managed  to  cross  them,  although  not  with- 
out considerable  difficulty.  At  times  everything,  the  earth, 
the  rocks,  the  very  hills  and  mountains,  seemed  converted 
into  water.  At  every  step  were  tiny  streamlets,  and  here 
and  there  were  roaring  torrents  that  carried  everything 
before  them. 

In  one  deep  quebrada  I witnessed  a spectacle  which  I 
had  never  observed  elsewhere.  High  above  us  on  one  side 
of  the  ravine  the  flood  was  seen  springing  over  the  crest 
of  a precipice,  clearing  the  loftiest  tree-tops  in  its  mighty 
leap,  and  forming  in  its  mad  plunge  a series  of  waterfalls 
and  cascades  of  bewildering  variety  and  magnificence. 
The  sight  was  so  unusual,  and  so  beautiful  withal,  that  my 
Indian  cargueros,  who  were  usually  quite  indifferent  to 
such  things,  suddenly  halted,  and  addressing  themselves 
to  me,  exclaimed  in  unfeigned  astonishment,  “Mira,  mira, 
el  agua  esta  saltando  por  encima  de  los  arboles!” — “Look, 
look,  the  water  is  jumping  over  the  trees.”  The  spectacle 
was  indeed  unique,  and  we  found  ourselves  unconsciously 
repeating  the  familiar  words  of  Tennyson: 

‘ ‘ A land  of  streams ! Some,  like  a downward  smoke, 

Slow  dropping  veils  of  thinnest  lawn,  did  go ; 

And  some  thro’  wavering  lights  and  shadows  broke, 
Rolling  a slumbrous  sheet  of  foam  below.  ’ ’ 

Our  experiences  during  the  succeeding  days  were  little 
more  than  repetitions  of  those  of  the  first  two  days  after 
leaving  Moyobamba.  After  the  first  day,  it  is  true,  we  were 
all  obliged  to  journey  afoot,  but  the  prefect,  with  a kind- 
ness I can  never  forget,  had  secured  for  my  benefit  the 
services  of  two  able-bodied  cholos  as  cargueros  de  silla — 

402 


A Camp  in  the  Forest  Between  Moyobamba  and  Balsapuerto. 


Fording  a River  in  the  Montana. 


TRAMPING  THROUGH  A TROPICAL  FOREST 

chair-carriers — who  were  to  carry  me  in  a portable  chair 
in  case  of  necessity  or  fatigue. 

Such  cargueros  are  common  in  the  mountain  regions  of 
South  America,  where  horses  and  mules  are  not  available, 
and  they  are  a God-send,  if  not  a positive  necessity,  to 
persons  of  delicate  health  or  weak  constitution,  who  have 
occasion  to  travel.  Humboldt  had  recourse  to  their 
assistance  in  crossing  the  Cordilleras  of  New  Granada, 
and  speaks  in  the  highest  praise  of  their  strength  and  en- 
durance. Some  of  them  are  of  Herculean  strength  and  can 
easily  carry  day  after  day  a man  weighing  two  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds. 

Unless  too  tired,  I always  preferred  to  walk.  But  when 
it  came  to  crossing  rivers  and  mountain  torrents,  I was 
always  glad  to  mount  the  chair  on  the  back  of  one  of  my 
cargueros.  He  was  better  able  to  breast  the  strong  cur- 
rent than  I was.  Besides,  as  a sanitary  precaution,  I 
wished  to  avoid  getting  wet  when  there  was  no  occasion 
for  it. 

Frequently  the  water-courses  we  had  to  cross  were  quite 
broad,  and  sometimes  the  water  rose  to  the  arm-pits  of 
my  valiant  cargueros.  Once  in  crossing  a river  just  above 
a cataract,  my  carguero  slipped  and  lost  his  balance. 
There  was  then  a piercing  scream  from  all  our  party,  who 
thought  that  both  the  carguero  and  I were  about  to  be 
carried  away  by  the  surging  rapids.  But,  by  a supreme 
effort  the  carguero  quickly  regained  his  equilibrium  and 
the  threatened  disaster  was  averted.  I felt  then  as  I have 
felt  since,  that  the  salvation  of  both  of  us  was  due  entirely 
to  the  strength  and  presence  of  mind  of  my  stalwart 
porter.  This,  however,  was  the  only  time  that  I was  ex- 
posed to  danger,  although  we  were  obliged  to  ford  rivers, 
often  wide  and  deep,  no  less  than  sixty-three  times  be- 
tween Moyobamba  and  Balsapuerto. 

Before  leaving  Bioja,  I was  told  that  we  might  expect 
continual  rains  while  on  our  way  to  Balsapuerto  and  that 
we  should  consider  ourselves  fortunate,  if  we  were  not 

403 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

delayed  by  high  and  unfordable  streams  at  their  flood. 
There  are  no  bridges  nor  ferries,  and  when  the  rivers  rise, 
after  heavy  rainfalls,  there  is  nothing  for  the  traveler  to  do 
but  patiently  wait  until  the  flood  subsides. 

By  a special  providence,  it  rained  but  little  during  the 
daytime  after  the  first  day,  but  there  were  heavy  down- 
pours every  night.  It  was  then  that  I thanked  my  stars 
that  I had  with  me  a good  water-proof  tent,  for  with  this 
I was  as  completely  sheltered  as  if  I had  been  under  my 
own  rooftree,  and,  what  was  almost  equally  important,  I 
was  able  always  to  have  dry  clothing  for  the  following 
day’s  journey.  My  companions  were  quite  satisfied  with 
their  tambitos,  although,  owing  to  their  hasty  and  imper- 
fect construction,  they  were  not  always  rain-proof. 

Although  the  rivers  were  greatly  swollen  by  the  heavy 
rainfalls  during  the  night,  their  floods  subsided  so  rapidly 
that  we  were  never  delayed  even  for  an  hour.  Only  once 
did  I suffer  any  inconvenience  from  a rapid  rise  in  the 
river,  and  that  was  when  I permitted  my  cargueros  to  lag 
behind  me  so  far  that  I had  to  pass  the  night  without  tent 
or  baggage.  Then  I had  forcibly  brought  to  mind  the  wis- 
dom of  the  saying,  which  travelers  in  these  lands  should 
never  forget,  “Ni  rio  adelante,  ni  cargo  atras” — “Never 
have  river  before  you  nor  baggage  behind.”  The  meaning 
of  this  is,  camp  on  the  side  of  the  river  next  to  your  goal,  for 
it  may  rise  during  the  night  and  delay  your  journey.  And 
keep  your  baggage  with  you,  if  you  wish  to  have  it  when 
needed  and  desire  to  avoid  vexatious  delays. 

On  the  occasion  in  question,  wre  had  arrived  about  five 
o’clock  in  the  evening  at  the  broadest  and  deepest  river 
that  we  had  yet  encountered.  My  cargueros  de  silla  wished 
to  delay  crossing  it  until  the  following  morning,  but  I in- 
sisted in  passing  to  the  opposite  side  at  once  while  the 
river  was  fordable.  A heavy  rain  during  the  night  might 
render  it  impassable  for  several  days.  They  finally  de- 
ferred to  my  wishes,  and  we  went  to  an  old  tambo,  where 
we  purposed  spending  the  night.  But  our  baggage- 

404 


TRAMPING  THROUGH  A TROPICAL  FOREST 

bearers,  for  the  first  time,  were  several  hours  behind  us, 
and,  by  the  time  they  reached  the  river,  it  had  risen  so 
high  that  it  was  quite  impassable.  The  consequence  was 
that  I was  without  tent,  change  of  clothing  or  provisions. 
Fortunately,  the  officer  in  charge  had  a dry  blanket,  and 
this  he  insisted  on  my  using  for  the  night.  “I  am  an  old 
soldier,”  he  said,  “and  am  accustomed  to  sleeping  on  the 
bare  ground,  but  you  who  are  unused  to  our  climate,  may 
get  a fever,  if  you  do  not  keep  dry.” 

That  night  we  were  all  supperless,  except  our  baggage 
carriers,  who  bivouacked  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river. 
But  my  companions,  who  were  used  to  such  mishaps,  did 
not  complain.  As  for  myself,  I was  so  preoccupied  with 
the  wonderful  forest  scenes  I had  witnessed  during  the 
day,  that  I was  quite  unconscious  of  hunger. 

That  night  there  was  a continuous  downpour  until  to- 
wards morning,  when  the  sky  cleared  and  the  stars  ap- 
peared with  unwonted  splendor.  When  I awoke,  I found 
that  I had  lain  under  an  opening  under  the  thatch  roof, 
and  was,  in  consequence  thoroughly  drenched.  But  I was 
so  exhausted  the  night  before,  owing  to  our  long  march, 
that  “My  sleep  fell  soft  on  the  hardest  bed,”  and  I was 
not  disturbed  by  the  falling  rain.  Luckily,  the  rain  was 
not  cold  and  I did  not  feel  uncomfortable. 

The  view  of  the  bright  stars  above  me  probably  con- 
tributed not  a little  towards  making  me  forget  what,  under 
ordinary  circumstances,  I should  have  considered  a sorry 
plight.  Far  away  from  home,  under  the  spangled  vault  of 
heaven,  I recalled  Dante’s  famous  letter  to  a Florentine 
friend,  in  which,  in  words  of  proud  and  noble  dignity,  the 
homeless  exile  scornfully  rejects  the  amnesty  which  had 
been  proffered  him  on  conditions  which  he  deemed  humili- 
ating and  unjust. 

“Is  this,”  he  writes,  “the  glorious  recall  whereby  Dante 
Alighieri  is  summoned  back  to  his  fatherland,  after  suf- 
fering well  nigh  fifteen  years  of  exile?  Is  this  the  reward 
of  innocence,  manifest  to  all  the  world,  of  unbroken  sweat 

405 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


and  toil  in  study?  Far  be  it  from  the  familiar  of  philos- 
ophy, this  abject  abasement  of  a soul  of  clay!  Not  this  the 
way  of  return  to  my  country,  0 my  father!  but  if  another 
may  hereafter  be  found  by  you,  or  any  other,  which  hurts 
not  Dante’s  fair  fame  and  honor,  that  will  I accept  with 
no  lagging  feet.  If  no  such  path  leads  back  to  Florence, 
then  will  I never  enter  Florence  more.  What  then?  May 
I not  gaze  upon  the  mirror  of  the  sun  and  stars  wherever 
I may  be  ? Can  I not  ponder  on  the  sweetest  truths,  when- 
ever I may  be  beneath  the  heaven,  but  I must  first  make 
me  inglorious,  nay,  infamous,  before  the  people  and  state 
of  Florence.  Nor  shall  I lack  for  bread.”  1 

Never,  probably,  did  these  clarion  notes  of  the  great 
Florentine  more  strongly  appeal  to  anyone  than  they  did 
to  me  during  that  memorable  night  in  the  equatorial  forest, 
and  never  did  his  unique  character  loom  up  so  noble  and 
so  sublime.  Owing,  doubtless,  to  my  peculiar  surroundings 
at  the  time,  his  words  rang  in  my  ears  like  a trumpet  call 
to  higher  things,  and  mere  creature-comforts  were  quite 
forgotten  in  the  contemplation  of  things  of  the  mind. 

The  day  before  arriving  at  Balsapuerto  we  reached  the 
most  dangerous  ford  in  the  montana — dread  Puchumaco. 
It  is  a narrow  path  scarcely  two  feet  wide,  over  solid, 
slippery  rock  at  the  very  edge  of  a large  and  impetuous 
cataract.  On  one  side  of  the  path  the  water  is  entirely 
too  deep  to  be  forded;  on  the  other  is  the  dizzy,  roaring 
waterfall.  It  would  be  quite  impossible  for  one  inclined  to 
vertigo  to  cross  at  this  point  unaided,  and  even  the  most 
experienced  cargueros,  before  entering  the  water  here,  al- 
ways make  the  sign  of  the  cross  and  invoke  the  aid  of 
Maria  Santisima. 

“It  is  an  awful  place,”  said  a friend  in  Lima,  who  had 
crossed  it,  “and  I hesitated  a long  time  before  attempting 
the  passage.” 

“When  we  shall  have  crossed  Puchumaco,”  one  of  my  es- 
cort declared,  “we  can  tell  exactly  the  time  that  will  be  re- 

J Epistola  IX,  Amico  Florentino,  translated  by  P.  H.  Wicksteed. 

406 


TRAMPING  THROUGH  A TROPICAL  FOREST 


quired  to  reach  Balsapuerto.  But  it  is  impossible  to  do 
so  before,  because,  if  the  river  be  high,  we  shall  have  to 
wait  until  it  can  be  safely  forded.  We  may  be  delayed  a 
day  or  a week,  according  to  the  amount  of  rain  that  has 
fallen  in  the  mountains.” 

As  we  drew  near  the  roaring  rapids,  I eagerly  awaited 
the  opinion  of  the  chief  carguero  respecting  the  possibility 
of  effecting  the  passage.  But  I was  not  kept  long  in  sus- 
pense. He  stepped  into  the  water,  and,  after  estimating 
its  depth  and  the  strength  of  the  current,  be  quietly  said, 
“ Se  puede  pasar” — “We  can  cross.” 

But  walking  over  that  narrow,  slippery  ledge,  and  breast- 
ing a strong  current  at  the  same  time,  was  like  walking  a 
tigbt-rope,  only  far  more  perilous.  A single  misstep  and 
the  luckless  wayfarer  would  be  in  the  grip  of  the  resistless 
cataract.  But  Providence  was  still  with  us,  and  in  a few 
moments  we  were  all  fervently  exclaiming  Gracias  d Dios. 
Pucbumaco  was  behind  us  and  we  knew  that  we  should  be 
at  Balsapuerto  the  following  day. 

“The  way  is  now  clear!”  said  the  young  officer,  “and 
there  is  nothing  further  to  be  apprehended.” 

This  was  true,  but  it  did  not  mean  that  the  path  before  us 
was  easy  or  free  from  obstacles.  Far  from  it.  For  it 
was,  in  some  respects,  the  roughest  and  most  difficult  part 
of  our  journey. 

First  came  La  Escalera — the  stairway — a steep  declivity 
where  there  is  almost  a sheer  drop  of  a half  mile.  The 
precipitous  declivity  takes  its  name  from  a primitive  ladder 
which  is  nothing  more  than  a long,  notched  trunk  of  a tree, 
by  which  the  traveler  lowers  himself  from  a massive  ledge 
of  perpendicular  rock.  After  this,  he  follows  a vertiginous, 
zigzag  trail  where  at  times  he  finds  it  difficult  to  retain  his 
footing. 

But  even  where  the  abyss  yawns  sheer,  one  becomes  ob- 
livious of  danger  in  the  contemplation  of  the  magnificent 
panoramas  that  are  spread  before  one’s  view.  For  it  is 
only  from  such  a coign  of  vantage  that  one  can  have  a 

407 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


true  conception  of  some  of  the  wonders  of  a tropical  wood- 
land. As  observed  from  above,  the  impenetrable  canopy 
of  the  forest  is  like  the  ocean — dark-heaving,  boundless, 
sublime, 


“A  populous  solitude  of  bees  and  birds 
And  fairy-formed  and  many  colored  things. 

“Of  stirring  branches  and  the  bud  which  brings 
The  swiftest  thought  of  beauty,  here  extend, 

Mingling  and  made  by  Love  unto  one  mighty  end.” 

As  seen  with  the  naked  eye,  the  view  before  us  is  but 
a vast  plain  of  undulating  verdure  and  as  monotonous  in 
its  immensity  as  the  ocean  itself.  But  with  a good  glass, 
one  can  discover  here  and  there,  on  this  measureless  back- 
ground of  green,  glowing  patches  of  creamy-white,  coral- 
red  and  rich  purple. 

One  spot  is  a tree  in  full  bloom  and  weighed  down  by  a 
dense  mass  of  flowers  which,  beneath  the  rays  of  the  trop- 
ical sun,  gleam  against  the  dark  green  foliage  with  almost 
dazzling  brilliance.  Another,  much  nearer  the  observer, 
is  composed  of  huge  bunches  of  orchids  and  other  epi- 
phytes, 

“Painted  with  thousand  colours,  passing  farre 
All  painters’  skill,” 

while  not  far  distant  is  a forest  giant  overspread  with  count- 
less creepers  whose  flaming  scarlet  flowers  hang  in  deep 
fringes  from  every  twig  and  branch. 

But  I would  not  have  the  reader  infer  that  such  glorious 
exhibitions  of  color  are  frequent  or  always  visible.  Such 
is  far  from  being  the  case.  Unless  one  be  favorably  located 
and  specially  look  for  them,  they  may  escape  observation 
entirely.  Indeed,  I have  traveled  for  several  consecutive 
days  in  equatorial  forests  without  seeing  a single  floral 
display  at  all  approaching  those  just  mentioned. 

Wallace’s  experience  in  the  tropics  is  even  more  remark- 

408 


TRAMPING  THROUGH  A TROPICAL  FOREST 


able.  “Conspicuous  masses  of  showy  flowers,”  he  writes, 
“ are  so  rare  that  weeks  and  months  may  be  passed  without 
observing  a single  flowering  plant  worthy  of  special  admi- 
ration. Occasionally  some  tree  or  shrub  will  be  seen  cov- 
ered with  magnificent  yellow  or  crimson  or  purple  flowers, 
but  it  is  usually  an  oasis  of  color  in  a desert  of  verdure, 
and,  therefore,  hardly  affects  the  general  aspect  of  the 
vegetation.  ’ ’ 1 

This  almost  total  absence  of  flowers  is  particularly  re- 
markable when  one  is  in  the  depth  of  the  forest  and  under 
its  leafy  canopy.  To  the  traveler  from  temperate  zones, 
who  expects  to  find  luxuriance  of  vegetation  always  ac- 
companied by  masses  of  bloom  and  blazes  of  color,  this 
feature  is  always  surprising.  “But  where,”  inquires 
Bates,  “were  the  flowers?  To  our  great  disappointment 
we  saw  none,  or  only  such  as  were  insignificant  in  ap- 
pearance.”2 The  illustrious  botanist,  Dr.  Spruce,  who 
spent  so  many  years  in  the  Amazon  basin,  had  the  same 
experience,  for  “far  the  greater  part  of  the  plants  gathered 
by  him  in  equatorial  America  had  inconspicuous  green  or 
white  flowers.” 

Contrary  to  what  is  generally  supposed,  the  display  of 
floral  beauty  diminishes  in  proportion  as  vegetation  be- 
comes more  luxuriant.  I saw  more  flowers  on  the  com- 
paratively treeless  slopes  of  the  eastern  Cordilleras  in  one 
hour  than  I found  in  the  montana  in  a week,  and  I have 
seen  more  blossoms  in  one  of  our  daisy-clad  meadows  than 
I saw  in  the  entire  selva  of  the  Amazon. 

The  truth  is  that  “The  equatorial  forest  is  too  gloomy 
for  flowers,  or  generally  even  for  much  foliage,  except  of 
ferns  and  other  shade-loving  plants;  and  were  it  not  that 
the  forests  are  broken  up  by  rivers  and  streams,  by  moun- 
tain ranges,  by  precipitous  rocks  and  by  deep  ravines,  there 
would  be  far  fewer  flowers  visible  than  there  are.  Some 
of  the  great  forest  trees  have  showy  blossoms,  and  when 
these  are  seen  from  an  elevated  point,  looking  over  an  ex- 

1 Op.  cit.,  p.  264.  * Op.  cit.;  pp.  46-47. 

409 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


panse  of  tree-tops,  the  effect  is  very  grand;  but  nothing  is 
more  erroneous  than  the  statement  sometimes  made  that 
tropical  forest  trees  generally  have  flowers,  for  it  is  doubt- 
ful whether  the  proportion  is  at  all  greater  in  tropical  than 
in  temperate  zones.  On  such  natural  exposures  as  steep 
mountain  sides,  the  banks  of  rivers  or  ledges  of  precipices, 
and  on  the  margins  of  such  artificial  openings  as  roads  and 
forest  clearings,  whatever  floral  beauty  is  to  be  found  in 
the  more  luxuriant  parts  of  the  tropics  is  exhibited.  But 
even  in  such  favorable  situations,  it  is  not  the  abundance 
and  beauty  of  the  flowers,  but  the  luxuriance  and  freshness 
of  the  foliage  and  the  grace  and  infinite  variety  of  the  forms 
of  vegetation  that  will  most  attract  the  attention,  and  ex- 
tort the  admiration  of  the  traveler.  Occasionally,  indeed, 
you  will  come  upon  shrubs  gay  with  blossoms,  or  trees  fes- 
tooned with  flowery  creepers;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  you 
may  travel  for  a hundred  miles  and  see  nothing  but  the 
varied  greens  of  the  forest  foliage  and  the  deep  gloom  of  its 
tangled  recesses.”  1 

What  has  been  asserted  of  the  variety  of  flowers  in 
tropical  forests  may  likewise  be  affirmed  of  the  scarcity 
of  the  larger  forms  of  animal  life.  As  there  are  many  who 
imagine  that  every  acre  along  the  equator  is  a veritable 
botanical  garden  of  rare  and  dazzling  blooms,  so  also  are 
there  many  who  fancy  that  every  square  mile  is  a menag- 
erie, where  one  may  find  troops  of  howling  monkeys  and 
scores  of  savage  beasts  of  every  kind.  Nothing  could  be 
farther  from  the  truth.  There  is,  indeed,  a great  variety 
of  birds,  reptiles  and  mammals,  but  they  are  so  widely  scat- 
tered and  so  exceedingly  shy  and  so  well  concealed  that 
they  are  rarely  met  with,  except  by  a professional  hunter, 
who  is  thoroughly  familiar  with  their  haunts  and  habits. 
Many  are  nocturnal  animals  and  never  seen  in  the  day- 
time, while  the  others  so  effectually  hide  themselves  that 
one  may  spend  months  in  the  depths  of  the  forest,  and 
never  see  or  hear  any  of  the  larger  mammals.  Nowhere 

i Wallace,  op.  cit.,  p.  265, 


410 


TRAMPING  THROUGH  A TROPICAL  FOREST 

will  one  find  anything  like  the  herds  of  buffalo  that  form- 
erly roamed  our  western  plains,  or  the  divers  troops  of 
ruminants  and  pachyderms  that  still  throng  the  jungles  of 
Central  Africa. 

Truth  to  tell,  if  the  baneful  forms  of  animal  life  were  as 
numerous  as  sometimes  represented;  if  savage  beasts  of 
prey,  venomous  reptiles  and  gigantic  serpents  abounded 
to  the  extent  so  often  pictured  by  those  dwelling  in  tem- 
perate zones,  the  tropics  would  be  quite  uninhabitable  so 
far  as  man  is  concerned.  But  strangely  enough,  it  is  fre- 
quently those  who  are  thoroughly  familiar  with  every 
phase  of  life  in  the  forests  of  the  equator  who  unconsciously 
contribute  to  the  perpetuation  of  the  erroneous  views  that 
are  entertained  regarding  the  dangers  which  are  supposed 
to  be  everywhere  imminent.  “For  when  they  tell  their  ex- 
periences to  those  at  home,  they,”  as  Im  Thurn  justly 
observes,  “tell  only  of  moments  made  eventful  to  them  by 
exciting  or  evil  experiences,  and  leave  unnoticed  the  long 
periods  intermediate  between  such  moments,  in  which 
nothing  of  consequence  occurred.”  1 They  give  in  a single 
traveler’s  tale  “the  concentrated  miseries”  of  years,  and 
their  hearers,  without  suspecting  it,  imagine  that  they  are 
listening  to  the  recital  of  a frequent  and  ordinary  oc- 
currence. 

But  such  erroneous  notions  about  the  abundance  and 
danger  of  noxious  animals  are  not,  strange  to  say,  confined 
to  people  who  dwell  in  northern  latitudes.  I have,  to  my 
astonishment,  found  them  prevalent  in  the  immediate  vi- 
cinity of  the  equator,  and  among  people  who  should  know 
better. 

When  I was  in  Cajamarca  a good  old  lady,  who  was 
otherwise  well  informed,  tried  to  dissuade  me  from  making 
the  journey,  as  planned,  through  the  montana,  because  of 
the  countless  dangers  of  all  kinds  which,  in  her  estimation, 
I was  sure  to  encounter.  When  I asked  her  what  they 
were,  she  replied,  “Tigres,  viboras,  culebras,  garrapatas, 

1 Among  the  Indians  of  Guiana,  p.  107,  London,  1883. 

411 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


zancudos,  mosquitos,  avispas  y otras  sabandijas  nocivas 
innumerables>> — “Tigers,  vipers,  snakes,  ticks,  mosquitoes, 
gnats,  wasps  and  other  noxious  insects  without  number.” 

What  were  the  facts  in  the  case?  During  my  entire 
journey  between  Cajamarca  and  the  mouth  of  the  Amazon, 
I did  not  see,  or  even  hear,  a single  tiger,1  or  serpent  of 
any  kind.  I was  never  but  once  molested  by  insects,  and 
that  was  only  for  a few  moments,  when  I inadvertently  sat 
on  an  ant  hill.  Only  once  during  my  trip  across  the  con- 
tinent did  I use  my  mosquito-bar,  and  even  then  mosquitoes 
were  so  few  that  my  companions  dispensed  with  such 
protection. 

More  remarkable  still,  during  all  the  long  weeks  I was 
in  the  heart  of  the  tropical  jungle,  I never  saw  a single 
tapir,  peccary,  puma,  sloth,  manati,  armadillo,  monkey  or 
any  of  the  animals  which  are  popularly  supposed  to  abound 
in  such  countless  numbers  in  the  Amazon  basin.  And  yet 
I was  always  straining  my  eyes  to  catch  at  least  a glimpse 
of  some  of  these  interesting  denizens  of  the  forest.  But 
it  was  in  vain.  Fact  in  my  case  was  stranger  than  fiction. 
My  experience  across  the  Andes  and  down  the  Amazon  was 
but  a repetition  of  that  recorded  in  my  work — Up  the 
Orinoco  and  down  the  Magdalena — when  the  entire  ab- 
sence of  all  the  larger  forms  of  animal  life  was  equally 
remarkable.2 

I spent  nearly  a year  in  the  equatorial  regions  of  South 
America,  and  was  most  of  the  time  in  the  wilds  of  the 

1 The  name  commonly  applied  in  South  America  to  the  jaguar — Felis  onca. 

2 P.  364,  et  seq.  Compare  James  Rodway,  who,  in  his  delightful  work, 
In  the  Guiana  Forest,  declares  that  “To  the  stranger,  the  forest  appears 
almost  deserted.  Hardly  the  sign  of  an  animal  is  to  be  seen  by  any  but  a 
skilled  huntsman,  and  by  him  only  after  a most  careful  search.  There  are 
no  open  places,  but  the  whole  is  one  vast  game  cover,  in  the  recesses  of  which 
millions  of  animals  may  be  hidden  without  any  indication  of  their  pres- 
ence.” Again  he  observes,  “However  rare  and  difficult  to  find  may  be  those 
which  live  on  the  groimd,  still  they  are  to  be  seen  by  the  naturalist  and 
skilled  huntsman;  but  when  it  comes  to  the  others— the  great  majority  that 
abide  in  the  canopy  above  and  rarely  descend  to  earth — observation  is  almost 
impossible,”  pp.  44-49,  New  York,  1894. 

412 


TRAMPING  THROUGH  A TROPICAL  FOREST 


forest  and  mountain  and  llanos,  and,  notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  I was  always  on  the  lookout  for  new  specimens  of 
tropical  fauna,  the  very  ones  I was  most  eager  to  see  com- 
pletely eluded  my  observation.  My  experience  may  be 
unique,  but  it  is  certainly  valuable  in  at  least  one  respect 
— in  proving  conclusively  that  the  larger  forms  of  animal 
life  are  far  less  prominent  than  is  usually  depicted,  and 
that  the  dangers  and  discomforts  of  travel  in  the  interior 
of  South  America  arising  from  savage  beasts  and  venom- 
ous reptiles  and  pernicious  insects  are  far  less  than  what 
they  are  usually  supposed  to  be  in  extra-tropical  lands. 

It  was  unquestionably  vastly  different  from  that  of  a 
certain  romancing  Frenchman,  yclept  explorer,  whose  nar- 
rative of  travel  would  lead  the  reader  to  believe  that  sav- 
age beasts  and  still  more  savage  Indians  are  everywhere 
lying  in  wait  for  one  who  presumes  to  enter  their  zealously 
guarded  domains,  and  that  the  choicest  game  birds  and 
mammals  are  always  posing  for  the  hunter  and  within  easy 
reach  of  his  trusty  rifle. 

The  pity  is,  that  in  the  author’s  own  country  his  book 
is  regarded  as  a veracious  record  of  events  and  a faithful 
picture  of  the  regions  which  he  traversed.  In  South  Amer- 
ica, however,  where  he  is  known,  his  work  is  classed  with 
the  fictions  of  Baron  Munchausen  and  Sir  John  Mande- 
ville. 

In  the  course  of  conversation  with  a number  of  gentle- 
men who  had  met  this  author  during  his  visit  to  the  tropics, 
one  of  them  told  me  that  the  adventures  recorded  were  but 
“The  inventions  of  exuberant  fancy.”  “Say  rather,”  in- 
terposed another,  “that  they  are  the  fabrications  of  exu- 
berant mendacity.” 

“Why  have  you  put  such  sensational  stories  in  your 
book?”  this  Gallic  author  was  asked  by  one  of  his  South 
American  friends.  “Mats,  que  voulez  vous f”  he  replied, 
with  a significant  shrug  of  the  shoulders.  “My  publishers 
and  readers  demand  such  stories  and  I have  to  satisfy  them. 
Voila  tout.” 


413 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


What  I have  said  about  the  rarety  of  the  larger  forms  of 
animal  life  visible  in  tropical  America,  can  likewise  be  said 
of  the  ear-splitting  noises  of  which  the  forests,  during  cer- 
tain hours  of  the  day,  are  said  to  be  the  theater. 

“At  early  dawn,”  says  Orton,  “the  animal  creation 
awakes  with  a scream.”  1 I am  familiar  with  most  of  the 
country  described  by  the  author  of  this  statement,  and  I 
must  say  that  my  impression  was  quite  the  reverse.  Aside 
from  the  occasional  screams  of  macaws  and  parrots,  there 
was  little  noise  of  any  kind — certainly  not  more  than  is 
heard  in  our  northern  forests  during  the  summer  season. 

Speaking  of  the  silence  and  gloom  of  the  equatorial  for- 
ests, Bates,  who  spent  so  many  years  amid  their  dark  re- 
cesses, declared,  “They  are  realities  and  the  impression 
deepens  on  a longer  acquaintance.” 2 Sometimes,  it  is 
true,  there  may  be  a sudden  scream,  when  some  defenseless 
fruit-eating  animal  “is  pounced  upon  by  a tiger-cat  or  a 
stealthy  boa-constrictor,”  and  in  certain  districts  howling 
monkeys  may  not  infrequently  make  “a  most  fearful  and 
harrowing  noise”;  but  the  fearful  uproar  that  is  supposed 
by  many  to  pervade  the  tropical  forest  at  stated  hours  of 
the  day  is  the  exception  and  not  the  rule.  For  one  may 
travel  for  months  in  the  most  unfrequented  regions  without 
once  hearing  a single  sound  louder  than  that  made  by  a 
screaming  macaw  or  a chattering  parrot. 

What  most  impresses  the  traveler,  when  he  enters  for  the 
first  time  the  primeval  forests  of  the  equatorial  regions,  is 
the  immensity,  the  gloom,  the  silence  and  solitude  of  his 
environment.  There  is  the  feeling  of  awe,  the  sense  of 
solemnity,  the  strange  mysterious  horror  that  the  people  of 
old  felt  in  the  dark  forests  of  Germany  and  Gaul.  Arbori- 
bus  suus  horor  inest. 

In  these  mighty  woods  one  seems  to  be  in  some  vast 
cathedral  of  Nature  wherein  the  tall  and  multiform  columns 
eclipse  in  variety  and  beauty  of  form  anything  to  be  found 

1 The  Andes  and  the  Amazon,  p.  204,  New  York,  1870. 

2 Op.  cit.,  p.  48. 


414 


TEAMPING  THROUGH  A TROPICAL  FOREST 


in  the  noblest  of  Greek  or  Gothic  temples.  Here  one 
catches  “The  exact  tone  and  spirit  of  those  solemn  silences, 
those  suggestive  glooms  that  brood  eternally  over  the  mys- 
tic soil  of  the  tropical  forest,”  and  can,  at  leisure,  con- 
template what  Grant  Allen  has  so  well  characterized  as 
the  natural  rivals  of  Karnak  and  Denderah  “where  huge 
columns  rise  buttressed  to  the  sky  from  bare  forest-glades, 
supporting  one  vast  dome  of  living  green,  through  which 
scarcely  a ray  of  subdued  light  flickers  timidly  down  to  the 
leafless  and  flowerless  bed  of  leaf -mold  beneath  them.” 

Another  feature  of  the  forest  primeval  that  is  sure  to 
impress  the  traveler  is  the  marvelous  variety  of  forms  and 
species  which  everywhere  meet  the  eye.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  a few  palms,  one  rarely  sees  trees  of  social  or  gre- 
garious habits  like  our  northern  oaks,  pines,  birches  and 
beechwoods.  There  are  trees  of  every  form  and  color  and 
dimension,  but  it  is  an  exceptional  occurrence  when  two  of 
a kind  are  found  side  by  side.  Often  one  may  observe  two 
trees  near  together  that  look  exactly  like  each  other,  but,  on 
investigation,  they  prove  to  be  of  different  species.  In- 
stead of  the  dozen  species  that  make  up  the  woods  of  north- 
ern climes,  those  of  the  equatorial  zone  are  counted  by 
hundreds. 

It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  the  idea  of  evolution 
and  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest  should,  in  great  measure, 
have  had  its  origin  in  the  study  of  the  manifold  and  diversi- 
fied floral  and  faunal  forms  of  the  tropics.  And  in  the  face 
of  the  endless  variety  and  boundless  energy  of  the  plant  life 
along  the  equator,  one  can  understand  how  it  was  possible 
for  two  investigators  on  opposite  sides  of  the  globe — Dar- 
win in  South  America  and  Wallace  in  the  Malayan  Archi- 
pelago— to  arrive  at  the  same  conclusion  respecting  the 
origin  of  species,  and  how  such  other  tropical  travelers  as 
Belt,  Huxley,  Bates  and  Fritz  Muller  were  prepared  to  give 
the  new  theory  their  intelligent  and  enthusiastic  support. 

But,  interesting  as  are  the  vigor  and  profusion  and  va- 
riety of  the  vegetation  of  the  tropics,  that  which  more  than 

415 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


anything  else  is  sure  to  claim  the  attention  of  the  student 
is  the  struggle  for  life  that  is  everywhere  manifest.  For 
here  not  only  is  “life  at  its  fullest,  its  fiercest  and  its  fier- 
iest,” but  here  also,  both  among  plants  and  animals,  “the 
struggle  for  existence  is  carried  on  with  a wild  energy 
which  none  can  overlook.” 

What  tragedies  are  covered  by  the  solitary  gloom  of  the 
tropical  forest  can  be  adequately  realized  only  by  the  natu- 
ralist who  has  spent  years  under  its  weird  canopy  and  has 
familiarized  himself  with  the  peculiar  habits  of  the  fauna 
and  flora  of  this  mysterious  region. 

The  carnivora  prey  on  the  herbivora.  The  puma  and  the 
ocelot  live  on  harmless  nut  and  fruit-eaters,  while  wood- 
peckers, barbets  and  other  birds  feed  on  insects.  Every 
river,  creek  and  swamp  teems  with  the  lower  animalculae 
which  supply  food  for  the  larvae  of  flies  and  mosquitoes, 
which  nourish  countless  shoals  of  small  fish,  while  these 
in  turn  become  the  prey  of  the  larger  members  of  the  finny 
tribe  as  well  as  of  the  ibis  and  the  alligator. 

But  nowhere  does  the  waste  of  life  seem  to  be  so  great 
as  among  the  hundreds  of  species  of  ubiquitous  termites. 
Their  enemies  are  innumerable,  but,  among  the  most  active 
of  them,  are  ants,  spiders,  toads,  lizards,  bats,  goat-suck- 
ers, and  above  all,  the  voracious  ant-bear.  Certain  ani- 
mals like  the  deer,  the  water-haas  and  the  peccary  seem  to 
be  even  more  unfortunate.  In  the  forest  they  are  the  vic- 
tims of  the  jaguar  and  the  boa-constrictor,  while,  if  they 
approach  the  water  to  quench  their  thirst,  they  forthwith 
become  the  prey  of  the  alligator  and  the  anaconda.  Day 
and  night  the  struggle  continues  without  intermission,  and 
with  a fury  and  a loss  of  life  that  is  appalling.  The  very 
young  and  the  old,  the  diseased  and  the  helpless  soon  dis- 
appear, and  only  the  strongest  and  the  fittest  survive. 

But  great  as  is  the  struggle  in  the  animal  world,  that 
in  the  vegetable  kingdom  is  still  greater.  Where  the  soil 
is  so  rich,  the  climate  so  warm,  the  atmosphere  so  humid, 
where  moisture  is  so  abundant,  we  should  naturally  expect 

416 


TRAMPING  THROUGH  A TROPICAL  FOREST 


a riot  of  plant-growth,  but  it  is  impossible  to  realize  the 
nature  of  the  struggle  that  is  constantly  waging  in  the 
depths  of  the  forest,  until  one  has  been  a witness  of  some 
of  its  strange  peculiarities.  It  is  entirely  different  from 
anything  ever  seen  in  northern  latitudes,  and  some  of  its 
features  are  so  astonishing  as  to  be  incredible,  were  their 
existence  not  proved  beyond  peradventure. 

Where  vegetation  exists  in  such  extraordinary  profusion, 
where  soil  and  heat  and  moisture  are  so  propitious,  the 
struggle  for  existence  is  chiefly  manifested  in  the  ceaseless 
straining  of  each  plant,  shrub  and  tree  after  light.  If  they 
could  but  speak,  their  own  cry  would  be  the  words  of  the 
dying  Goethe,  Mehr  Licht,  mehr  Licht — More  light,  more 
light.  In  their  effort  to  obtain  the  requisite  amount  of  this 
vivifying  element,  they  crowd  and  push  and  elbow  one  an- 
other until  all  but  the  strongest  succumb  to  the  inevitable. 

But  even  after  a tree  has  been  victorious  in  its  race  for 
light,  it  is  not  secure.  Its  expanding  branches  may  rejoice 
in  the  rays  of  the  tropical  sun,  and  it  may  possess  the 
strength  of  a forest  giant;  but  enemies,  apparently  insig- 
nificant, may  compass  its  destruction.  It  may  fall  into  the 
clutches  of  the  wild  fig — Ficus  dendroica  1 — and  when  once 
within  the  constricting  bands  of  this  python-like  strangler, 
its  fate  is  sealed.  For  when  it  is  enclosed  in  the  living  fet- 
ters of  this  irresistible  strangler,  the  largest  and  most  vig- 
orous tree  is  soon  deprived  of  light  and  vitality.  Its  leaves 
drop,  its  branches  wither  and  die,  while  myriads  of  termites 
take  possession  of  the  trunk,  and  soon  a mass  of  brown 
humus  is  all  that  is  left  of  what  was  once  the  pride  of  the 
forest. 

Or  the  tree  may  wax  strong  and  dominate  its  fellows  and 
escape  the  strangling  fig  to  fall  in  the  end  a victim  of  the 

1 Called  by  the  Spaniards,  Matapalo — tree  killer — but  more  appropriately 
named  by  the  Germans,  Wiirgelaum — tree  strangler.  Another  remarkable 
instance  of  a plant  that  causes  the  death  of  its  host  by  methods  similar  to 
those  of  the  matapalo,  is  the  Clusia  insignis,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  shrubs 
in  the  tropics,  which,  on  account  of  its  thick,  leathery  leaves,  that  shine  as 
if  polished,  and  its  green,  glossy  branches,  is  always  sure  to  arrest  attention. 

417 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


murderous  loranth.  Like  Sinbad,  it  may  take  this  appar- 
ent weakling  on  its  shoulders  and  discover,  when  it  is  too 
late,  that  it  has  developed  into  another  Old  Man  of  the 
Sea. 

The  loranth,  a parasite  of  the  mistletoe  family,  adheres 
to  its  living  support  by  sucking  disks,  and,  extending  its 
octopus-like  arms  from  branch  to  branch  and  from  twig  to 
twig,  is  soon  draining  the  sap  of  the  tree  in  hundreds  of 
places.  Even  the  sturdiest  monarch  of  the  forest  is  soon 
weakened  by  such  depletion,  and  forced  to  lag  behind  its 
swifter  and  hardier  competitors.  It  is  then  only  a question 
of  time  until  it  succumbs  and  yields  its  place  to  some  more 
fortunate  rival,  possibly  one  of  its  own  offspring,  which 
it  has  hitherto  sheltered,  but  has  not  permitted  to  outstrip 
it  in  the  race  for  light  and  life. 

In  a few  years  the  loranth  undoes  the  work  of  centuries, 
but,  it  too,  like  its  victim,  has  mortal  enemies  and  sooner  or 
later  runs  its  course.  Thus  the  struggle  for  life  ever  con- 
tinues. The  individual  may  die  but  the  species  survives, 
and  by  modification  and  selection  becomes  slowly  but  surely 
better  adapted  to  its  environment,  and  better  equipped  to 
ward  off  the  enemies  that  would  compass  its  destruction. 

But  much  as  I was  interested  in  the  fierce  struggle  for 
existence,  which  is  such  a conspicuous  feature  of  tropical 
life,  I did  not  disregard  the  many  splendid  vistas  which 
greeted  the  view,  nor  overlook  the  countless  objects  of 
beauty  that  adorned  my  path. 

To  the  lover  of  “a  quiet  journey  of  the  heart  in  pursuit  of 
Nature,”  nothing  can  be  more  restful  and  stimulating  than  a 
stroll  through  the  weirdly  solemn  woodlands  where  eternal 
twilight  reigns  supreme.  Here,  surrounded  by  laughing 
streams,  whispering  leaves  and  rippling  songs  within  the 
shadows,  one  may  enjoy  a serene  although  intense  pleasure 
which  cannot  be  found  elsewhere.  For  nowhere  is  there 
so  much  to  appeal  to  every  sense  and  to  engage  every  fac- 
ulty of  the  mind.  Nowhere  else  is  the  interdependence  of 
animal  and  vegetable  life  so  well  exhibited,  and  nowhere 

418 


TRAMPING  THROUGH  A TROPICAL  FOREST 

are  witnessed  those  wonderful  protective  colors  and  con- 
trivances with  which  every  living  thing  is  provided. 

In  no  other  part  of  the  globe  are  the  many  intricate 
processes  for  the  fertilization  of  flowers  so  well  exemplified. 
Here  wind-fertilized  trees,  if  any  exist,  are  the  exception 
and  not  the  rule.  Birds  and  insects  perform  the  functions 
of  air-currents  in  our  northern  climes.  Flowers  of  brilliant 
colors  attract  bees  and  butterflies  by  day,  while  blossoms  of 
rarest  perfumes  allure  clouds  of  insects  at  night. 

Plants  are  thus  like  animals,  some  working  during  the 
day,  others  only  after  nightfall.  The  latter,  during  the 
flowering  season,  are  specially  active,  for  then  their  leaves 
must  labor  while  the  sun  shines  and  their  blossoms  must 
begin  work  as  soon  as  it  shall  have  set.  During  this  time, 
the  entire  forest  is  alive  with  myriads  of  insects,  and  the 
atmosphere  is  saturated  with  perfumes  which  are  diffused 
by  the  shade-loving  plants  on  the  ground,  and  wafted  from 
the  tree-tops  high  overhead.  The  work  then  performed  by 
tree  and  plant,  leaf  and  flower,  is  something  enormous. 
But  it  is  necessary  for  the  conservation  of  the  species. 

It  is  said  that  the  botanist  Haenke  on  first  beholding  a 
Victoria  regia  fell  on  his  knees  and  sang  the  Te  Deum. 
The  devout  lover  of  nature  always  feels  like  imitating  his 
example,  and  chanting  a hymn  of  praise,  when  contemplat- 
ing the  wonderful  provisions  Nature  has  here  made  for 
perpetuating  the  divers  forms  of  life  that  give  such  grace 
and  loveliness  to  this  portion  of  God’s  beautiful  world. 

In  the  darker  portions  of  the  woods  there  is  but  little 
undergrowth,  for  it  is  so  obscure  that  even  shade-loving 
plants  are  unable  to  thrive.  In  such  places  the  ground  is 
almost  bare,  for  the  leaves  and  fallen  trees  rapidly  disap- 
pear under  the  combined  action  of  the  elements  and  those 
billions  of  forest  scavengers — the  ever-active  and  ubiqui- 
tous termites.  Here  one  will  see  none  of  the  true  mosses 
that  carpet  the  ground  in  our  northern  forests,  although 
certain  club-mosses — Selaginella  and  Lycopodium — may 
sometimes  be  visible.  And  here,  where  the  forest  giants 

419 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


are  always  clothed  with  the  vesture  of  summer,  and  where 
not  a single  ray  of  light  can  penetrate  to  the  soil  beneath, 
there  are  none  of  those  pretty  flowers — anemones,  blue-bells 
and  spring-beauties — that  adorn  the  woods  of  higher  lati- 
tudes, where,  however  deep  the  shade,  there  is  never  an 
approach  to  the  profound  gloom  that  forever  prevails  in 
the  montana  of  Peru  and  in  the  selva  of  Brazil. 

Here  where  Nature  is  so  lavish  with  her  gifts,  where  she 
actually  runs  riot  in  the  rich  exuberance  of  her  never-fail- 
ing energy,  it  were  idle  to  dilate  on  the  strange  masses  of 
tangled  vegetation  that  encircle  every  glade,  on  the  lianas 
and  cord-like  aerial  roots  that  are  laden  with  fantastic 
orchids  and  parasites,  on  the  great  domes  of  fan-shaped 
leaves  that  crown  the  stately  moriche  palm,  on  the  green 
tracery  and  lace-like  leafage  which  bedeck  the  graceful  fern- 
tree,  the  princess  of  tropical  woodland. 

It  would  be  vain  to  descant  on  the  surpassing  beauty  of 
babbling  brooks,  bordered  by  festoons  of  delicate  creepers, 
or  pellucid  streams  meandering  under  somber  arcades 
formed  by  towering  trees  whose  branches  weave  high  above 
their  superb  canopy  of  richest  foliage  and  flower.  And 
futile,  too,  would  it  be  to  essay  to  describe  the  graceful  cas- 
cades, that  break  the  course  of  quiet  rivulet  and  impetuous 
torrent,  the  exquisite  waterfalls  which  descend  from  dizzy 
heights  like  bridal  veils  dropped  from  the  sky,  the  count- 
less springs  that  gush  from  the  mountain  side  with  waters 
purer  and  clearer  than  those  of  Castalia  or  Hippocrene, 
the  beauteous  grottoes,  rivaling  Calypso’s, 

“All  overgrown  with  trailing  plants 
Which  curtain  out  the  day  with  leaves  and  flowers.” 

The  famed  beauties  of  Tempe  pale  into  insignificance  be- 
fore the  glories  of  a valley  in  the  tropics,  with  its  marvel- 
ous wealth  of  plant-life,  while  as  for  the  forest  primeval  in 
all  its  variety  and  richness  and  gorgeousness,  no  pen,  no 
brush,  however  cunning  the  hand  that  may  guide  it,  can 
ever  adequately  depict  it,  nor  can  imagination,  however 

420 


TRAMPING  THROUGH  A TROPICAL  FOREST 

fertile,  conceive  it  in  its  splendid  reality.  This  knowledge, 
this  exceedingly  great  reward,  Nature  reserves  for  those 
only  who  visit  her  in  chosen  penetralia,  and  who  know  how 
to  hold  communion  with  her  while  she  unfolds  the  mys- 
teries which  render  her  to  all  but  her  votaries  so  enigmat- 
ical— so  inscrutable. 


421 


CHAPTER  XXI 


DRIFTING  IN  A DUGOUT 

The  first  positive  evidence  we  had  of  being  near  Bal- 
sapuerto  was  the  lowing  of  an  invisible  cow  just  in  front 
of  ns.  And,  although  we  were  still  in  the  dark  and  tangled 
forest  through  which  we  had  been  trudging  for  nearly  a 
week,  we  were  sure  that  we  were  on  the  verge  of  a grass- 
colored  glade  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  our  eagerly-sought 
goal  on  the  Cachiyaco.  And  so  it  was.  A few  steps  more 
took  us  out  of  the  woods  into  the  midst  of  a beautiful  green 
meadow  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town. 

The  governor  of  Balsapuerto  extended  to  me  the  same 
cordial  welcome  that  had  been  accorded  me  everywhere  else 
in  his  hospitable  country,  and  had  a bountiful  supply  of  re- 
freshments in  readiness  for  us. 

“I  had,”  he  said,  “made  all  arrangements  to  go  to 
Yurimaguas  yesterday,  but,  being  advised  of  your  coming, 
I have  waited  for  you  so  as  to  have  the  pleasure  of  your 
company  en  route.  You  are  to  be  my  guest  until  we  reach 
Yurimaguas,  where,  I am  sure,  the  sub-prefect  will  claim 
you  during  such  time  as  you  may  tarry  there.” 

We  remained  but  a few  hours  in  Balsapuerto,  for  there 
was  but  little  there  to  engage  our  attention.  It  is  a village 
of  not  more  than  two  or  three  hundred  inhabitants,  mostly 
Indians  and  mestizos,  which  derives  its  chief  importance 
from  being  a convenient  half-way  place  between  Moyo- 
bamba  and  Yurimaguas.  Much  of  the  merchandise  to  and 
from  Moyobamba  passes  through  this  little  town.  It,  there- 
fore, like  many  other  similar  villages  in  South  America,  has 
visions  of  future  greatness  as  a commercial  center — visions, 
however,  which  are  not  likely  to  be  realized. 

422 


DELETING  IN  A DUGOUT 


Our  baggage  was  transferred  without  delay  to  the  gov- 
ernor’s canoe — a large  but  graceful  piragua  made  from  a 
single  log  of  cedar.  It  was  something  more  than  thirty 
feet  long  and  four  feet  wide  and  capable  of  carrying  nearly 
two  tons.  Over  the  middle  of  it  was  a waterproof  pama- 
cari,  woven  from  palm  leaves  to  shield  us  from  the  sun  and 
rain.  It  was  manned  by  a puntero  who  stood  at  the  bow 
on  the  lookout  for  shoals  and  sunken  trees,  a popero,  or 
steersman,  who  used  a paddle  for  a helm,  and  six  bogas  or 
rowers. 

Besides  the  crew,  the  boat  carried  six  passengers,  their 
baggage,  several  days  ’ provisions  for  the  entire  party,  some 
merchandise  and  last,  but  not  least,  the  government  mail. 

Among  our  provisions,  not  including  what  I had  brought 
from  Moyobamba,  were  plantains,  beans,  preserves,  eggs, 
pineapples  and  a goodly  number  of  live  chickens.  There 
was,  besides,  a liberal  supply  of  chicha  and  aguardiente 
contained  in  large  carboys  like  those  used  for  the  trans- 
portation of  corrosive  acids.  This  was  chiefly  for  the  use 
of  the  crew. 

It  was  nearly  three  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  when  the 
governor  gave  the  order  for  departure  in  the  single  word, 
Vamonos.  A few  strokes  of  the  oars  and  our  boat,  fol- 
lowed by  a small  one  containing  some  of  my  escort,  was  in 
the  middle  of  the  Rio  Cachiyaco,  a tributary  of  the  Para- 
napura,  which  enters  the  Huallaga  just  below  Yurimaguas. 

As  the  palm-thatched  roofs  of  Balsapuerto  were  disap- 
pearing from  sight,  I beheld  the  Cumbre  de  la  Escalera.  It 
was  my  last  view  of  the  Andes;  for  the  tall  trees,  that 
thenceforward  bordered  the  Cachiyaco,  made  it  impossible 
to  see  them  again.  A feeling  of  sadness  came  over  me 
when  leaving  that  majestic  mountain  chain  on  the  heights 
and  flanks  of  which  I had  spent  so  many  delightful  months, 
but  the  sadness  was  but  momentary.  For  no  sooner  was 
La  Escalera  veiled  from  sight  by  the  sylvan  rampart,  that 
towered  up  on  each  side  of  the  river,  than  there  appeared 
in  the  east  a bright  and  beautiful  rainbow  like  the  one  that 

423 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


gladdened  my  eyes  as  I was  bidding  adieu  to  the  Pacific 
before  starting  for  the  Amazon. 

“Buen  aguero ” — “a  good  omen,”  said  the  governor,  ad- 
dressing me.  “ You  are  going  to  have  a safe  and  pleasant 
voyage  to  Para.” 

These  were  almost  the  same  words  that  had  been  spoken 
by  the  chief  of  my  escort,  when,  some  weeks  before,  we  were 
contemplating  the  beauteous  rainbow  that  was  beckoning 
me  across  the  Cordilleras.  It  was  a good  omen  then,  for 
I had  had  an  ideal  trip  across  the  great  Andean  range,  and 
I loved  to  think  that  the  second  omen  would  be  equally 
auspicious  for  a safe  and  pleasurable  voyage  to  the  far 
distant  Atlantic. 

We  spent  the  first  night  after  leaving  Balsapuerto  on 
a sand  bank  under  a palm-leaf  tambito,  which  some  of  our 
Indians  constructed  while  the  others  were  preparing  our 
evening  meal,  which  included,  among  other  things,  a chicken 
fricassee  that  would  have  done  credit  to  a Parisian  chef. 

I had  been  told  that  I should  find  a temperatura  infernal 
on  the  Cachiyaco,  but  so  far  was  this  from  being  the  case, 
during  our  first  night  on  this  river,  that  I passed  it  under 
a double  blanket.1  I was  also  assured  that  I should  be  de- 
voured by  mosquitoes  and  zancudos,  but  so  free  was  our 
camp  from  these  pests  that  no  one  thought  of  using  a mos- 
quito net. 

The  following  morning  we  arose  at  four  o’clock,  and, 
after  partaking  of  some  delicious  coffee,  we  were  again  in 
our  canoe  gliding  rio  ahajo  and  listening  to  the  rhythmic 
cadence  of  dipping  oars  whose  stroke  was  as  perfectly 
timed  as  if  each  boga  was  a part  of  some  accurately  geared 

i During  a few  days  about  the  middle  of  June,  owing  to  the  prevalence  of 
the  southeast  wind  and  the  unusually  rapid  evaporation  of  moisture,  the 
temperature  in  the  Amazon  basin  falls  to  60°  F.  This  produces  what  the 
natives  call  Frio  de  San  Juan — cold  of  St.  John — and  is  by  them  regarded  as 
quite  as  intense  as  that  of  one  of  our  northern  blizzards  is  by  us. 

This  remarkable  reduction  of  temperature  was  noted  by  the  earliest  ex- 
plorers of  the  Amazon.  Fray  Laureano  de  la  Cruz,  O.S.F.,  makes  a special 
reference  to  it  in  his  Nuevo  Descubrimiento  del  Maranon. 


424 


DRIFTING  IN  A DUGOUT 


machine.  Each  man  exhibited  the  skill  of  a trained  Ve- 
netian gondolier,  and  seemed  to  be  a part  of  the  craft  he 
managed  so  well.  They  had  paddles  about  four  feet  long 
with  blades  eight  or  nine  inches  wide,  instead  of  the  oars 
with  which  we  in  the  north  are  familiar.  These  they 
dipped  into  the  water  almost  perpendicularly  and  dispensed 
entirely  with  anything  like  an  oar-lock  or  a thole-pin. 

More  surprising  than  the  regularity,  was  the  rapidity  of 
their  strokes.  They  averaged  by  actual  count  no  less  than  a 
hundred  a minute,  and  this  they  kept  up  for  hours  at  a time, 
without  the  slightest  indication  of  fatigue.  What  a splen- 
did showing  these  red  watermen  would  make  in  one  of  our 
intercollegiate  regattas ! Our  university  oars  would  cer- 
tainly be  put  to  it  to  hold  their  own. 

But  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  Indian  is  so  skillful 
in  handling  his  canoe,  for  he  is  as  much  at  home  on  the 
water  as  on  the  land.  Indeed,  some  of  his  race  learn  to 
swim  before  they  are  able  to  walk,  and  remain  during  life 
almost  amphibian  in  their  habits.  Their  canoe  is  as  much 
their  home  as  their  hut,  and  they  are  never  happier  than 
when  threading  the  mazes  of  forest  streams  or  shooting 
rapids,  or  tracing  the  sinuosities  of  the  majestic  rivers, 
which  are  such  conspicuous  features  of  the  great  Amazon 
basin.  What  the  llama  is  to  the  native  of  the  Bolivian 
plateau,  what  the  horse  is  to  the  Arab,  what  the  camel  is  to 
the  wanderer  in  the  Sahara,  the  canoe  is  to  the  Indian  of 
the  South  American  lowlands. 

As  I watched  our  graceful  piragua,  like  the  phasellus 
celerrimus  described  by  Catullus,  swiftly  gliding  down  the 
Paranapura  and  fraught  with  all  the  mystery  and  magic 
of  forest  life,  and  beheld  in  its  simple  structure 

“All  the  tightness  of  the  birch-tree, 

All  the  toughness  of  the  cedar, 

All  the  larch’s  supple  sinews,” 

I could  realize — what  before  had  seemed  difficult  to  compre- 
hend— how  the  early  missionaries  and  explorers  were  able 

425 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


to  make  such  long  journeys  in  so  frail  a craft,  and  that,  too, 
with  comparative  speed  and  safety.  With  a boat  like  ours, 
and  an  Indian  like  one  of  our  crew  to  guide  it,  danger  was 
reduced  to  a minimum.  So  much,  indeed,  is  an  Indian  a 
part  of  his  canoe,  and  so  absolute  is  his  control  over  it,  that 
a Greek  poet,  could  he  have  seen  the  two  together,  would 
have  described  the  prodigy  as  an  aquatic  centaur. 

There  is  quite  a number  of  habitations  on  the  banks  of 
the  Paranapura,  most  of  which  are  the  homes  of  Jeberos 
Indians,  who,  before  their  conversion  by  the  missionaries, 
nearly  two  centuries  ago,  were  celebrated  for  their  valor 
and  greatly  feared  by  the  neighboring  tribes.  They  are 
now,  thanks  to  the  labors  of  the  ministers  of  peace,  the  most 
docile,  the  most  industrious  and  the  most  useful  Indians  in 
eastern  Peru.  We  called  at  several  of  these  Indian  homes, 
most  of  whose  inmates  speak  a dialect  of  Quichua,  and 
were  invariably  received  with  the  greatest  kindness  and 
courtesy.  Here,  as  along  the  Orinoco  and  the  Meta,  we 
found  the  male  portion  of  these  unspoiled  children  of  the 
forest  to  be  Nature’s  gentlemen. 

At  the  house  of  a chief,  where  we  stopped  to  replenish 
our  commissariat,  I was  impressed,  as  rarely  before,  by  the 
gentle,  affectionate  and  grateful  nature  of  the  Indian. 
While  the  governor  was  talking  to  the  father  of  the  family, 
my  attention  was  attracted  to  two  little  girls  about  two  and 
four  years  of  age.  They  were  lovely  children  and,  had 
their  skin  not  been  so  dark,  they  might  well  have  served 
as  models  for  Correggio’s  putti,  while  their  bright-eyed 
brother  near  by  might  have  been  the  original  of  one  of  Muril- 
lo’s  Beggar  Boys. 

The  younger  child  was  particularly  beautiful,  and,  as 
she  showed  no  timidity  in  my  presence,  I began  to  caress 
her,  and  give  her  some  little  trinkets  I happened  to  have 
with  me.  The  little  thing  was  so  delighted  that  it  wished  to 
come  to  my  arms.  Just  then  the  mother  entered  the  room 
and  I said  to  her,  “ Achallay  huahua” — “What  a lovely 
child!”  No  further  introduction  was  necessary.  I became 

426 


DRIFTING  IN  A DUGOUT 


at  once  a friend  of  the  family  and  nothing  in  the  house  was 
too  good  for  me.  Noticing  the  trinkets  I had  given  her 
darling  child,  the  mother  wished  to  give  me  something  in 
return.  She  accordingly  brought  from  an  adjoining  room 
some  fresh  eggs  and  choice  fruits  and  gave  them  to  the  little 
one  to  hand  to  me.  Beaming  with  delight  it  stretched  its 
tiny  hands  towards  me  and  seemed  the  picture  of  happiness 
when  I accepted  with  pleasure  its  proferred  gift. 

The  father  then  came  from  the  garden  and  insisted  on 
my  taking  something  from  him  also.  This  was  a well- 
mounted  bird  of  gorgeous  plumage,  which  constituted  the 
chief  ornament  of  his  ceremonial  head-gear.  Removing 
this  from  its  place  he  said,  “Please  accept  this  as  a sou- 
venir of  a friend  on  the  Paranapura.  You  like  my  child;  I 
like  you.” 

I then  felt  as  I had  a thousand  times  before  in  my  deal- 
ings with  the  Indians — and  I have  come  in  contact  with 
them  from  the  Arctic  circle  to  the  tropic  of  Capricorn — that 
if  you  treat  them  with  kindness,  if  you  treat  them  as 
human  beings,  they  will  do  anything  for  you.  But  kind- 
ness to  their  children,  whom  they  idolize,  appeals  to  them 
even  more  strongly  than  kindness  to  themselves.  Kindness 
to  the  little  ones,  probably  even  more  so  than  among  civil- 
ized peoples,  is  the  open  sesame  to  the  parent’s  heart.  The 
Indians,  like  the  people  of  Italy,  “are  dying  for  need  of 
love;  only  in  returning  love  for  love  they  become  themselves 
and  enter  into  possession  of  their  souls  by  the  gift  of 
them.”1 

The  home  of  the  Indian  chief  was  a small  but  neat  palm- 
thatched  cottage,  surrounded  by  a beautiful  garden.  But, 
like  the  cherished  home  of  Lope  de  Vega — parva,  propria, 
magna  2 — it  admirably  answered  all  the  wants  of  himself 

1 Ruskin’s  Roadside  Songs  of  Tuscany. 

2 Lope,  whom  Cervantes  calls  a monstruo  de  naturaleza — a portent  of  na- 
ture— playfully  described  his  little  garden,  in  which  he  took  great  pleasure, 
as  containing  a fountain,  a nightingale,  two  trees,  ten  flowers,  two  vines,  an 
orange-tree  and  a musk  rose. 


427 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


and  family.  He  might  have  described  it  as  did  Ariosto  the 
little  house  wherein  he  polished  the  verses  which  have  ren- 
dered him  immortal : 

‘ ‘ Parva  sed  apta  mihi,  sed  nulli  obnoxia,  sed  non 
Sordida,  parta  meo  sed  tamen  sere  domus.  ’ ’ 1 

Here,  in  a blessed  solitude  that  would  have  delighted  the 
heart  of  a St.  Bruno,  or  a St.  Basil ; far  away  from  the  fu- 
tile strife  of  humanity,  far  away  from  its  “chagrined  con- 
tention for  place  or  power  or  wealth  or  the  eyes  of  the  mul- 
titude ; and  all  the  endless  occupation  without  purpose  and 
idleness  without  rest,  of  our  vulgar  world,”  these  good 
people  enjoyed  the  simple  life  of  which  we  hear  so  much 
but  see  too  little,  and  each  one  of  the  happy  group  could 
say,  as  did  Amphion  long  ago  in  the  market  of  Athens, 
“How  many  things  there  are  in  the  world  that  I do  not 
want!  ” 

Here,  truly,  surrounded  by  such  radiant,  charming  chil- 
dren, one  could  easily  dispense  with  the  flask  of  wine,  the 
book  of  verse  and  the  favorite  singer  of  the  Persian  poet, 
and  still  exclaim,  in  the  serene  joy  of  undisturbed  tran- 
quillity and  perfect  liberty, 

‘ ‘ Oh,  Wilderness  were  Paradise  enow ! ” 2 

The  Indian  family  I have  just  described  is  not  unique 
nor  exceptional.  It  is  typical  of  scores  of  others  I saw  in 
various  parts  of  South  America,  who  so  strongly  appealed 
to  me  on  account  of  their  many  noble  qualities  of  mind  and 

1 “A  small  house,  but  suitable  for  me  and  hurtful  to  no  one ; it  is  clean  and 
has  been  purchased  by  my  own  money.” 

2 Is  the  love  of  the  simple  life,  of  log'  cabins  and  bungalows,  that  has  had 
such  attractions  for  men  from  the  time  of  Baucis  and  Philemon  to  the  days 
of  Thoreau  and  John  Burroughs,  an  indication  of  a reversionary  tendency 
to  a life  of  wild  nature?  Charlevoix,  speaking  of  the  coureurs  de  bois  of 
our  great  northwest,  declared  that  “The  savages  did  not  become  French,  but 
the  French  became  savages.”  Or  does  it  proceed  from  a desire  to  escape  from 
the  stress  and  strain  of  an  overwrought  civilization  with  all  its  pretense  and 
artificiality?  The  question  is  an  interesting  one. 

428 


DRIFTING  IN  A DUGOUT 


heart.  They  are  not,  it  is  true,  like  most  of  the  red  men 
with  which  our  people  in  the  United  States  are  familiar — 
poor  debased  creatures  hanging  about  Indian  agencies,  de- 
bauched by  the  white  man’s  whiskey,  and  eking  out  a pre- 
carious existence  on  the  dole  they  receive  from  the  gov- 
ernment. Neither  are  they  the  cruel  and  treacherous 
cutthroats  that  have  been  pictured  by  some  of  our  western 
land-grabbers  who  endorse  Custer’s  epigram  that  “The  only 
good  Indian  is  a dead  Indian,”  or  who  flippantly  repeat  with 
Artemus  Ward,  “Ingins  is  Pizin,  wliarever  found,”  and 
who,  if  they  could,  would  have  the  entire  race  exterminated. 

Far  from  this.  The  denizens  of  the  South  American 
forest,  “unspoilt  as  yet  by  alcoholic  civilization  and  un- 
decimated by  the  free  use  of  Martini-Henrys,”  are,  as  Co- 
lumbus found  them  on  his  first  arrival  in  the  New  World, 
“a  loving,  uncovetous  people,  so  docile  in  all  things  that 
. . . there  is  not  in  all  the  world  a better  people.” 

They  are  as  Las  Casas  knew  them  when,  in  his  diocese  of 
Chiapa,  he  converted  The  Province  of  War  into  The  Prov- 
ince of  True  Peace,  and  effected  by  the  cross  what  the 
Spanish  soldiery  had  not  been  able  to  accomplish  by  the 
sword  or  the  harquebus.  They  are  like  those  described 
by  the  saintly  Bishop  Palafox,  of  Pueblo,  in  his  Virtudes  del 
Indio,  and  as  they  were  found  by  Santo  Toribio,  the  Apos- 
tle of  Peru,  who  spent  his  life  in  their  service.  They  are 
like  the  countless  Indians  who,  in  earlier  days,  gathered 
around  the  missionary  in  the  llanos  of  Venezuela  and  Co- 
lombia, on  the  banks  of  the  Amazon  and  in  the  wilds  of 
Paraguay,  forming  industrious  and  happy  colonies,  where 
religion  flourished  with  the  arts  of  peace,  and  where  were 
resplendent  all  the  domestic  virtues  of  Acadia  as  mirrored 
in  Longfellow’s  Evangeline. 

The  Indians  of  the  equatorial  forests  are  poor,  if  you 
will,  but  they  are  not  discontented.  Most  of  them  are  as 
poor  “in  accumulated  wealth  as  the  poorest  peasantry  in 
Europe,  but  they  are  rich,  knowing  no  want  unsatisfied, 
as  a nation  of  millionaires,”  and  free,  like  the  birds  of  the 

429 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


air,  to  go  and  come  as  they  list.1  They  are  to-day  as  they 
were  in  the  time  of  Peter  Martyr,  who,  quaintly  Englished 
by  Eden,  writes  of  them  as  follows — “Myne  and  Thyne, 
the  seedes  of  all  myscheefe  haue  no  place  with  them.  They 
are  contente  with  soo  lytle,  that  in  soo  large  a countrey, 
they  haue  rather  superfluitie  then  scarsenes.  Soo  that, 
(as  we  haue  sayde  before)  they  seeme  to  lyue  in  the  goulden 
worlde,  without  toyle,  lyuinge  in  open  gardens,  not  in- 
trenched with  dykes,  dyuyded  with  hedges,  or  defended  with 
waules.  They  deale  trewely  one  with  another,  without 
lawes,  without  bookes,  and  without  Iudges.  They  take  hym 
for  an  euyll  and  myscheuous  man,  which  taketh  pleasure  in 
doinge  hurte  to  other.1  ’ 2 

1 The  following  description,  by  the  Earl  of  Dunraven,  of  the  red  man  of 
North  America  is  even  more  applicable  to  the  Indian  of  the  forests  bordering 
the  equator: 

“He  is  free,  and  he  knows  it;  we  are  slaves,  bound  by  chains  of  our  own 
forging — and  he  sees  that  it  is  so.  Could  he  but  fathom  the  depths  of  a 
great  city  and  gauge  the  pettiness,  the  paltry  selfishness  of  the  inhabitants, 
and  see  the  deceit,  the  humbug,  the  lying,  the  outward  swagger  and  the 
inward  cringing,  the  toadyism  and  the  simulated  independence;  could  he  but 
view  the  lives,  that  might  have  been  honorably  passed,  spent  instead  in  strug- 
gling for  and  clutching  after  gold,  and  see  the  steps  by  which  many  a re- 
spected man  has  climbed  to  fortune,  wet  with  the  tears  of  ruined  men  and 
women;  could  he  appreciate  the  meanness  of  those  who  consider  no  sacrifice 
of  self-respect  too  great  provided  it  helps  them  to  the  end  and  object  of 
their  lives,  and  pushes  them  a little  higher,  as  they  are  pleased  to  call  it,  in 
society;  could  he  but  glance  at  the  millions  of  existences  spent  in  almost 
chronic  wretchedness,  lives  that  it  makes  one  shudder  to  think  of,  years 
spent  in  close  alleys  and  back  slums,  up  dismal,  rotting  courts — without  sun 
ray,  air,  grass,  flower  or  beautiful  nature — with  surroundings  sordid,  dismal, 
debasing;  if  he  could  note  how  we  have  blackened  and  disfigured  the  face  of 
Nature,  and  how  we  have  polluted  our  streams  and  fountains,  so  that  we 
drink  sewage  instead  of  water;  could  he  but  see  that  our  rivers  are  turned 
to  drains  and  flow  reeking  with  filth,  and  how  our  manufacturers  have  so 
impregnated  the  air  we  breathe,  that  grass  will  not  grow  exposed  to  the 
unhealthy  atmosphere— could  he  but  take  all  this  in,  and  be  told  that  such 
is  the  outcome  of  our  civilization,  he  would  strike  his  open  palm  upon  his 
naked  chest  and  thank  God  that  he  was  a savage,  uneducated  and  untutored, 
but  with  air  to  breathe  and  water  to  drink,  ignorant  but  independent,  a wild 
but  a free  man.”  The  Great  Divide ; Travels  in  the  Upper  Yellowstone  in  the 
Summer  of  187J/,  pp.  108-111,  London,  1876. 

2 The  First  Three  English  Books  on  America,  p.  78. 

430 


DRIFTING  IN  A DUGOUT 


Many  of  them  still  retain  the  custom  of  painting  them- 
selves with  annatto  and  other  vegetable  dyes  in  order  to 
enhance  their  beauty  as  they  did  when  the  Father  of  Amer- 
ican History  penned  the  following  lines:  “And  that  they 

may  seeme  the  more  cumlye  and  bewtifull  (as  they  take  it) 
they  paynte  their  bodyes  redde  and  blacke  with  the  juce  of 
certeyne  apples  whiche  they  plante  in  their  gardens  for  the 
same  purpose.  Summe  of  them  paynte  their  hole  bodies; 
summe  but  parts ; and  other  summe  drawe  the  portitures,  of 
herbes,  floures,  and  knottes,  euery  one  as  seemeth  beste  to 
his  owne  phantasye.  ’ ’ 1 

The  grace  of  form  and  bearing,  the  splendid  physique, 
the  attractive  demeanor  which  Catlin  so  much  admired  in 
the  North  American  Indian  are  equally  conspicuous  among 
the  aborigines  of  the  Amazon.  I have,  he  writes,  lived 
with  “thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  these  knights  of 
the  forest,  whose  whole  lives  are  lives  of  chivalry,  and 
whose  daily  feats”2  in  their  sports  and  games  constitute 
“a  school  for  the  painter  or  sculptor  equal  to  any  of  those 
which  ever  inspired  the  hand  of  the  artist  in  the  Olympian 
games  or  the  Roman  forum.” 

The  late  Dr.  Harris,  Commissioner  of  Education,  aptly 
described  the  Indian  race  by  two  words,  “Homeric  chil- 
dren.” Mr.  Leupp,  sometime  United  States  Commissioner 
of  Indian  Affairs,  who  has  evinced  a clearer  insight  into  the 
character  of  the  red  man  than  many  of  his  associates  in 
office,  and  who  has  displayed  more  competency  in  dealing 
with  certain  phases  of  the  long-vexing  Indian  problem  than 
most  of  his  predecessors,  thus  comments  on  the  happy 
phrase  of  Dr.  Harris:  “They” — the  Homeric  children — 

“have  an  oriental  code  of  ethics  which  holds  hospitality  so 

1 Peter  Martyr,  ut.  sup.,  p.  151. 

The  Spaniards  in  their  first  contact  with  the  aborigines  were  evidently 
differently  impressed  by  this  style  of  adornment  for,  as  the  writer  just  quoted 
observes,  “A  man  wolde  thinke  them  to  bee  deuylles  incarnate  newly  broke 
owte  of  hell,  they  are  soo  lyke  unto  hel-houndes.”  Ibid.,  p.  91. 

2 Illustration  of  the  Manners,  Customs  and  Condition  of  the  American 
Indians,  Vol.  I,  p.  15,  London,  1845. 


431 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


sacred  that,  if  an  Indian  takes  you  into  his  home  as  a guest,1 
you  are  absolutely  under  his  protection  during  your  stay. 
But  the  same  code,  which  rigidly  recognizes  the  rights  and 
privileges  of  friendship,  and  even  one’s  duty  towards  the 
stranger,  who  is  temporarily  sharing  one’s  camp,  ignores 
every  consideration  in  the  treatment  of  an  enemy,  except 
the  desire  to  inflict  upon  him  any  injury  possible.  The 
maxim,  ‘All’s  fair  in  war,’  often  current  among  whites, 
who  carry  honor  to  the  extreme  of  generosity  in  dealing 
with  a foe,  to  an  Indian  means  what  it  says.  His  mind  is 
of  the  simpler  type  which,  in  a hostile  atmosphere,  knows 
no  sentimental  restraints,  but  despises  all  forms  except 
such  as  may  be  needed  to  mislead  an  intended  victim.  Re- 
move the  alluring  gloss,  which  poesy  has  spread  over  the 
conduct  of  the  worthies  who  figured  in  the  siege  of  Troy, 
and  do  we  find  any  larger  element  of  virtuous  motive  there 
than  in  the  standards  respected  by  our  aboriginal  race? 
Yet  Homer’s  people  we  do  not  denounce  as  innately  vicious 
because  the  stage  which  human  development  had  reached 
in  their  era  failed  to  foreshadow  some  of  the  best  features 
of  our  modern  civilization.”  2 

This  is  a fair  characterization  of  our  northern  Indian,  but 
it  does  not  adequately  describe  his  more  gentle,  docile  and 
law-abiding  brother  of  the  tropics.  I do  not  refer  to  the 
civilized  Indians  of  the  Andean  plateau,  but  rather  to  their 
half-civilized  brethren  of  the  forest  in  that  long  stretch  of 
country  which  extends  from  the  Casanare  in  the  north  to 
the  Grand  Chaco  in  the  south — a land  that  has  witnessed 
the  labors  and  the  triumphs  of  those  noble  conquistadores 
of  the  cross,  who,  from  St.  Louis  Bertrand  on  the  Magda- 
lena to  St.  Francis  Solano  on  the  Pilcomayo,  made  the  sav- 
age a Christian,  and  brought  him  within  the  pale  of  civil- 
ization. But  of  this  more  anon. 

1 The  statement  Recibe  bien  todo  Indio  silvestre  al  estrangero  que  viene  de 
pass — The  Indian  treats  well  all  peacefully  disposed  strangers — is  as  true  to- 
day as  it  was  in  the  time  of  the  early  missionaries. 

2 The  Indian  and  His  Problem,  pp.  6-7,  New  York,  1910. 


432 


DRIFTING  IN  A DUGOUT 


The  days  I spent  on  the  Paranapura  are  among  my  most 
cherished  recollections  of  the  tropics.  At  times  we  sped 
through  water  like  racing  porpoises ; but  usually  we  drifted 
along  with  the  current — lazily,  dreamily — brushing  by  long, 
whispering  rushes,  or  under  the  shade  of  the  dark  green 
forest-wall;  beguiled  ever  by  Nature’s  manifold  life  in  the 
glimmering,  opalescent  waters  of  the  river,  or  on  the  shim- 
mering branches  of  the  ceiba,  palm  and  bamboo,  or  in  the 
luminous  atmosphere  aflush  with  quivering  life — aflush 
with  innumerable  wings,  palpitating,  glittering  and  aglow 
with  the  most  brilliant  hues.  In  the  first  flush  of  dawn 
the  vapor-fleeced  sky  was  suffused  with  the  softest  gra- 
dations of  color  from  gray  and  cream  to  pink  and 
orange.  And  as  the  hour  of  twilight  approached  the  celes- 
tial vault  was  “ roofed  with  clouds  of  rich  emblazonry,” 
which  exhibited  all  the  modulations  of  tint,  all  the  pure, 
subtle  afterglow  of  the  setting  sun  that  so  fascinated  me  on 
the  Pacific. 

There  was  the  same  exuberance  of  vegetation  which  had 
so  delighted  me  in  the  forest  primeval,  from  which  we  had 
just  emerged;  but  the  aspect  was  different  and  the  vistas, 
which  opened  up  at  every  turn  of  the  river,  were  more  en- 
trancing. 

The  beauties  of  brooks  and  rivers  in  temperate  climes, 
which  poets  and  painters  from  time  immemorial  have  de- 
picted in'  such  glowing  colors,  are  tame  when  compared 
with  the  glories  of  the  water-courses  of  the  equator.  Every 
bend  of  the  river  exhibits  a new  scene — some  marvel  of 
plant  or  tree  or  flower.  Here  is  a giant  ceiba  festooned 
with  creepers  bearing  the  most  gorgeous  blossoms,  there  a 
clump  of  stately  palms  with  their  tremulous  plumes,  and  a 
stone’s  throw  from  them  a group  of  bamboos  which  Hum- 
boldt classed  among  “the  most  beautiful  adornments  of 
tropical  vegetation.”  Further  on  is  a towering  cedar  from 
whose  topmost  branches  depend  lianas  and  cord-like  aerial 
roots  which  resemble  the  rigging  of  a Brobdignagian  ship. 
Nearer  the  water’s  edge  are  clusters  of  arums,  marantas 

433 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


and  heliconias,  while,  if  the  current  be  not  too  strong,  the 
eye  is  now  and  then  delighted  by  exquisite  patches  of  water- 
lilies,  or  the  pretty  shields  of  other  aquatic  plants. 

But  charming  as  are  the  vistas  presented  by  the  river, 
the  pictures  offered  by  the  tributary  streams  which  drain 
the  forest  on  either  side  are  still  more  enchanting.  The 
mouths  of  these  streams  seem  at  first  sight  like  little  bays 
that  indent  the  bank;  for  they  are  so  curtained  about  by 
masses  of  vegetation  that  a view  of  what  is  beyond  is  ef- 
fectually concealed.  A few  strokes  of  the  machete,  how- 
ever, enables  our  pilot  to  escape  from  the  apparent  cul  de 
sac,  and  a vigorous  stroke  of  an  oar  sends  our  canoe  into  a 
magnificent  arcade  of  greenery  fifty  feet  wide  and  hun- 
dreds of  feet  long.  The  sides  of  this  vaulted  passageway 
are  veiled  with  a delicate  drapery  of  vines  and  creepers, 
which  trail  from  tree  to  tree,  and  hang  with  orchid- 
decked tapestries,  which  as  much  surpass  the  rarest 
creations  of  Flemish  looms  as  nature  surpasses  art.  Here 
the  atmosphere  is  redolent  of  rarest  perfumes  produc- 
ing, like  the  frangipani  plant,  the  effect 

“Of  orris  mixed  with  spice, 

Sandal  and  violet  with  musk  and  rose,” 

and  surpassing  in  the  delicacy  of  their  fragrance  the  famed 

“Sabean  odors  from  the  spicy  shores 
Of  Araby  the  Blest.” 

Further  onward  in  this  matchless  arcade  the  passage 
narrows,  and  the  sunshine  is  so  completely  curtained  out 
by  the  mass  of  foliage  and  scrambling  plants  that  we  seem 
to  be  in  the  half-light  of  the  under-world,  with  all  its  per- 
vading, mysterious,  whispering  silence.  The  effect  pro- 
duced is  then  weird  and  impressive  in  the  extreme,  while 
the  little  that  is  visible  in  the  encircling  gloom  is  well  de- 
scribed by  Dante  in  one  of  his  canzoni, 


434 


DRIFTING  IN  A DUGOUT 


“Come  pintura  in  tenebrosa  parte 
Que  non  si  puo  mostrare, 

Ne  dar  diletto  di  color,  ne  d’arte.  ”1 

Our  second  and  last  night  on  the  Paranapura  is  noted 
in  my  diary  as  the  only  place  during  my  journey  across  the 
continent  where  I used  a mosquito-bar.  And,  wonderful 
to  relate,  it  was  the  only  place  where  it  was  needed.  This 
I have  always  considered  most  remarkable,  in  view  of  the 
experiences  of  other  travelers  in  the  equatorial  regions, 
who  have  complained  of  the  clouds  of  mosquitoes  and  zan- 
cudos  which  day  and  night  made  their  life  a torture.  From 
what  I had  been  told,  I expected  to  suffer  more  or  less  from 
these  insect  plagues  as  soon  as  I reached  the  lowlands,  but 
I was  fortunate  enough  to  escape  them  entirely.  During 
my  entire  trip  between  the  Pacific  and  the  Atlantic,  I did 
not  lose  five  minutes’  repose  from  insects  of  any  kind.  So 
far  as  I am  aware  no  other  traveler  has  had  a similar  piece 
of  good  luck  to  record. 

The  day  we  reached  Yurimaguas  we  were  in  our  piragua 
shortly  after  two  o’clock  in  the  morning.  The  atmosphere 
was  deliciously  fresh,  the  thermometer  registering  69°  F., 
and  the  ever-changing  views  on  the  river  in  the  pale,  sil- 
very light  of  the  moon,  were  even  more  entrancing  than 
anything  we  had  seen  the  preceding  day,  except  the  natural 
arcades  above  described. 

It  was  during  these  early  morning  hours  that  I first  heard 
the  melancholy  notes  of  the  little  bird  known  as  El  alma 
perdida — the  lost  soul.  It  is  related  that  a young  Indian 
mother  left  her  child  in  charge  of  her  husband,  while  she 
went  into  the  forest  to  collect  balsam.  Alarmed  at  her  long 
absence,  the  man  went  in  search  of  his  wife,  leaving  his 
child  behind.  When  they  returned  to  the  spot  where  the 
child  had  been  left,  it  was  gone,  and  to  their  repeated  calls, 
as  they  wandered  through  the  woods  in  search  of  it,  they 

i“Lost  like  a picture  on  a gloomy  wall, 

Which  cannot  show  its  worth. 

Nor  give  delight  from  color  nor  from  art.” 

435 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


could  get  no  response,  except  the  mournful  notes  of  this 
little  bird,  which,  to  their  over-wrought  imaginations, 
sounded  like  papa,  mama — by  which  name  it  is  still  known 
among  the  Quichuas  of  the  montana. 

As  we  neared  Yurimaguas,  another  halting  place  in  our 
long  wanderings,  we  passed  quite  a large  number  of  canoes, 
big  and  little,  nearly  all  of  which  were  manned  by  Indians. 
Many  of  them  were  laden  with  fruits  and  vegetables  for 
the  market.  Some  of  the  boats  were  in  charge  of  Indian 
women,  who  seemed  quite  as  skillful  with  the  paddle  as  the 
men.  In  most  cases  there  were  several  children  aboard, 
who,  if  able  to  lift  a paddle,  were  sure  to  have  one  in  their 
hands,  which  they  plied  as  dexterously  as  does  a young  seal 
its  flippers. 

We  arrived  at  Yurimaguas  at  noon  the  third  day  after 
our  departure  from  Balsapuerto.  It  was  not  without  a 
pang  that  I here  took  leave  of  the  generous,  kindly  governor 
of  Balsapuerto  and  the  gentle  Indian  bogas,  who  had  con- 
tributed so  greatly  to  my  pleasure  and  comfort  by  their 
obliging  disposition  and  by  their  marvelous  skill  as  oars- 
men. I gave  each  of  them  a suitable  souvenir  of  our 
journey  together,  and  they  were  good  enough  to  invite  me 
to  be  their  guest  the  next  time  I should  desire  a piragua 
and  bogas  on  either  the  Cachiyaco  or  Paranapura. 

From  our  piragua  I went  directly  to  the  prefectura, 
where  the  sub-prefect  greeted  me  with  the  same  marked 
cordiality  as  that  with  which  I had  been  received  elsewhere 
in  Peru,  and  nothing  was  left  undone  to  render  the  day  I 
spent  there  eminently  enjoyable. 

In  the  evening  the  sub-prefect  gave  a dinner  in  honor 
of  El  viajero  Norte- Americano,  to  which  he  invited  all  the 
representative  men  of  the  town.  It  was  a most  delightful 
gathering  and  the  good-fellowship  manifested  was  quite 
exceptional.  Speeches  were  made  in  which  special  em- 
phasis was  laid  on  the  friendly  relations  between  Peru  and 
the  United  States,  and  toasts  were  drunk  to  the  presidents 
of  the  two  republics. 


436 


DRIFTING  IN  A DUGOUT 


All  had  many  questions  to  ask  about  President  Roosevelt, 
and  I was  surprised  at  the  knowledge  which  these  men,  in 
the  heart  of  the  wilderness,  displayed  regarding  the  career 
and  policies  of  our  strenuous  chief  executive.  One  of  them 
was  so  enthusiastic  about  him  that  he  insisted  in  drinking 
a second  toast  Al  ilustrisimo  Presidente  Roosevelt,  amigo 
del  Peru.  This  was  the  occasion  for  more  speeches,  in 
which  were  portrayed  the  greatness  and  glories  of  Peru 
and  Yurimaguas,  after  the  opening  of  the  Panama  Canal 
and  the  completion  of  the  Payta-Amazon  Railroad.  Then, 
as  our  perfervid  orators  saw  it,  a branch  road  would  be 
extended  from  the  trunk  line  to  their  enterprising  town,  and 
Yurimaguas  would  at  once  become  the  great  commercial 
center  of  the  upper  Amazon  basin. 

A parting  bumper  was  drunk  to  the  health  of  the  guest 
of  the  evening,  with  the  expression  of  the  hope  that  we 
might  all  meet  at  Panama  in  1915  for  the  opening  of  the 
great  canal  which,  it  was  predicted,  would  bring  Peru  and 
the  United  States  as  close  together  in  commerce  as  they 
now  are  in  friendship  and  mutual  esteem. 


437 


CHAPTER  XXII 


BATTLE-GROUNDS  AND  ACHIEVEMENTS  OF  THE 
CONQUISTADORES  OF  THE  CROSS 

Yurimaguas,  a flourishing  town  of  nearly  four  thousand 
inhabitants,  was  founded  in  1709  by  a Spanish  missionary, 
and  named  after  the  Yurimaguas  Indians,  who  were  for- 
merly one  of  the  most  numerous  and  powerful  tribes  on  the 
Amazon.  They  were  forced  to  leave  their  former  homes 
in  order  to  escape  the  Portuguese  slave-hunters,  who  fre- 
quently came  from  Para  and  carried  off  into  captivity  all 
the  members  of  the  tribe  whom  they  could  find.  So  perni- 
cious was  the  activity  of  these  dealers  in  human  flesh,  and 
so  great  was  the  mortality — fully  ninety  per  cent. — of  the 
unfortunate  victims  of  Portuguese  greed  and  cruelty,  that 
the  number  of  Yurimaguas  now  living  is  but  a small  fraction 
of  those  who  peopled  the  forests  of  the  Amazon  valley 
three  centuries  ago.  It  is  thought  by  some  that  the  women 
of  this  tribe  were  the  Amazons  whom  Orellana  encountered 
when  he  discovered  the  river  which  has  since  borne  their 
name. 

The  town  of  Yurimaguas  is  interesting,  among  other 
reasons,  because  it  is  the  head  of  steam  navigation  on  the 
Huallaga.  Two  lines  of  Peruvian  river  steamers  ply  fort- 
nightly between  it  and  Iquitos,  which  is  at  present  the 
terminus  of  ocean  liners.  As,  however,  the  Huallaga  can 
support  vessels  of  much  greater  draft,  than  those  which 
now  plow  its  waters,  it  is  probable  that,  when  commerce 
shall  demand  it,  small  ocean  steamers  will  ascend  this  great 
affluent  of  the  Amazon  as  far  as  Yurimaguas.  This,  at  all 
events,  is  the  fond  hope  of  the  citizens  of  this  enterprising 
and  ambitious  burg. 


438 


CONQUISTADORES  OF  THE  CROSS 

Thanks  to  the  kind  offices  of  the  sub-prefect,  I found, 
on  boarding  the  steamer  for  Iquitos,  that  a special  cabin, 
large  and  well  furnished,  had  been  reserved  for  my  in- 
dividual use.  After  roughing  it  so  long  among  the  moun- 
tains and  in  the  woods,  I felt  as  if  I had  been  suddenly 
transferred  to  a cabin  de  luxe  of  a transatlantic  grey- 
hound. For  the  comforts — they  seemed  luxuries  to  me 
then — which  I enjoyed  on  this  trim  little  craft  were  in 
marked  contrast  with  what  was  possible  on  the  simple 
dugout  which  had  safely  borne  me  from  Balsapuerto.  And 
yet  I cannot  say  that  I enjoyed  the  commodious  steamer, 
perfect  as  its  appointments  were,  any  more  than  I did  the 
narrow  piragua  in  which  I had  spent  some  of  the  most  de- 
lightful hours  of  my  life. 

In  addition  to  forty  first-class  and  sixty  second-class 
passengers,  our  boat  carried  eighty  head  of  cattle,  besides 
a goodly  number  of  sheep  and  hogs,  most  of  which  were 
destined  for  the  Iquitos  market.  The  majority  of  the  cattle 
had  been  brought  from  Balsas  and  Chachapoyas,  and  were, 
considering  their  long  drive,  in  excellent  condition. 

There  are  along  the  Huallaga  quite  a number  of  villages 
and  trading  stations,  the  chief  of  which  are  Santa  Cruz 
and  Laguna,  most  of  whose  inhabitants  are  Indians  or 
mestizos.  The  principal  article  of  export  from  these  places 
is  jebe — rubber — of  which  large  quantities  are  collected  in 
the  forest,  for  shipment  to  the  United  States  and  Europe. 
Otherwise,  what  one  sees  along  the  Huallaga  is  but  a rep- 
etition of  what  is  visible  along  the  Cachiyacu  and  Par- 
anapura.  The  scenery  is  the  same,  the  fauna  and  flora 
identical,  and  everywhere  is  the  same  struggle  for  life  that 
so  engaged  my  attention  in  the  rich  forest  expanse  between 
Moyobamba  and  Yurimaguas. 

But  much  as  these  things  had  hitherto  interested  me,  I 
found,  while  on  my  way  to  Iquitos,  matter  of  quite  a dif- 
ferent character  to  occupy  my  thoughts.  This  was  the 
Indian  of  the  forest  and  his  conversion  by  the  missionary 
of  days  long  since  passed. 


439 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


In  many  important  respects,  the  aborigines  of  the  woods 
in  South  America  are  quite  different  from  their  brethren 
of  the  plateau  or  of  the  desert  coast-land  along  the  Pacific. 
They  are  more  nomadic  in  their  habits,  less  amenable  to 
civilization,  more  restive  under  restraint,  and  more  diffi- 
cult, therefore,  to  reach  by  the  ministers  of  religion.  This 
is  particularly  true  of  many  tribes  of  the  eastern  part  of 
Peru,  but  it  was  more  so  during  the  period  immediately 
following  the  conquest. 

Many  families  of  certain  Indian  tribes,  even  before  the 
arrival  of  the  Spaniards,  had  fled  to  the  montana  to  seek 
the  peace  and  liberty  which  they  could  not  find  on  the  high- 
lands, and  they  looked  upon  the  first  white  men — whether 
soldiers  or  missionaries — who  entered  their  territory,  with 
distrust,  or  regarded  them  as  intruders.  Besides  these, 
there  were  other  denizens  of  the  forest  who  had  probably 
fallen  into  the  lowest  depths  of  savagery.  There  were 
countless  tribes,  all  speaking  different  tongues,  and  engaged 
in  ceaseless  warfare  one  with  the  other.  To  civilize,  and 
Christianize  these  wild,  ferocious  nomads  of  the  woods 
seemed  like  leading  a forlorn  hope,  but,  nothing  daunted, 
the  messengers  of  the  Prince  of  Peace  entered  upon  the 
work  in  a spirit  that  quailed  before  no  danger  and  knew  no 
defeat. 

To  me  nothing  in  the  whole  history  of  Gospel  ex- 
tension is  more  sublime  than  the  story  of  the  evange- 
lizing of  the  Indian  along  the  Huallaga  and  *the  Amazon. 
For  great  as  were  the  difficulties  and  countless  as  were 
the  dangers  along  the  valleys  of  the  Orinoco  and  the 
Paraguay,  those  connected  with  the  missions  of  the 
Huallaga  and  the  Amazon  were  greater  and  more  nu- 
merous. 

In  the  first  place  the  missionaries  were  a long  distance 
from  their  base  of  supplies.  In  the  beginning  this  was 
Quito.  To  go  from  this  point  to  Laguna,  the  chief  mis- 
sionary center  on  the  Huallaga,  involved  an  arduous  jour- 
ney of  two  months  afoot  and  by  canoe,  through  trackless 

440 


CONQUISTADORES  OF  THE  CROSS 

forests  and  often  through  the  territory  of  inhospitable  and 
hostile  tribes. 

And  when  the  evangelists  arrived  at  their  destination, 
there  was  the  almost  insuperable  difficulty  of  learning  the 
languages  of  the  wild  men  of  the  woods.  According  to  St. 
Jerome,  there  were  seventy-two  different  languages  spoken 
after  the  confusion  of  tongues  at  the  tower  of  Babel,  but, 
if  we  are  to  credit  Padre  Vieira,  the  number  spoken  by  the 
Indians  in  the  upper  Amazon  was  far  in  excess  of  this 
figure.  Every  tribe,  however  small,  had  its  own  language, 
which,  we  are  assured,  was  as  different  from  that  of  the 
adjoining  tribe  as  German  is  from  Hebrew.  This  meant 
that  every  missionary,  if  his  field  of  labor  was  at  all  ex- 
tensive, had  to  be  a polyglot.1 

But  the  greatest  difficulty  was  not  in  the  number  of 
tongues  that  confronted  the  ambassadors  of  Christ.  It  was 
their  exceeding  difficulty — often  little  more  than  rough 
guttural  sounds  and  grunts  and  grimaces  2 — and  the  almost 
total  absence  of  abstract  terms.  To  learn  these  tongues 
so  as  to  construct  a grammar  that  could  be  used  by  their 
associates  and  successors,  and  still  more  to  find  words  to 
convey  to  the  benighted  Indian  even  the  most  elementary 
truths  of  religion,  was,  for  the  first  missionaries,  a tre- 
mendous task.  Even  so  simple  a word  as  “believe,”  which 
has  no  equivalent  in  many  Indian  tongues,  offered  enor- 
mous difficulties  to  the  catechist.  What  a laborious  task 
must  not  therefore  have  been  involved  in  the  explanation 
of  the  Apostles  Creed?3  It  was  well  that  the  missionary 

1 According  to  Ameghino  the  number  of  languages  and  dialects  in  South 
America  exceeds  eight  hundred.  Antiguedad  del  Hombre  en  La  Plata,  Vol. 
I,  p.  76,  Buenos  Aires,  1880. 

2 Padre  Dobrizhoffer,  in  his  History  of  the  Abipones,  declares  that  “the 
sounds  produced  by  the  Indians  of  the  Chaco  resembled  nothing  human,  so 
do  they  sneeze,  and  stutter  and  cough.” 

s For  an  interesting  statement  of  the  difficulties  of  the  languages  spoken 
along  the  Huallaga  and  the  Amazon,  see  Noticias  Autenticas  del  Famoso  Rio 
Marahon,  publicadas  por  primera  vez  por  Marcos  Jimenez  de  la  Espada,  Cap. 
Ill,  Madrid,  1889. 

The  author  of  this  invaluable  work  is  conjectured  by  Jimenez  de  la  Espada 

441 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


confined  himself  to  the  fundamentals  of  religion  and 
eschewed  such  recondite  topics  as  election,  reprobation, 
adoption  and  justification,  with  which  John  Eliot  and  his 
Puritan  associates  thought  necessary  to  indoctrinate  the 
Indians  before  recognizing  them  as  Christians.1 

The  poet  Southey,  in  A Tale  of  Paraguay,  has  beauti- 
fully portrayed  the  crusader  of  the  montana,  the  conquista- 
dor of  peace  and  virtue,  in  the  following  lines: 

“Behold  him  on  his  way!  the  breviary 
Which  from  his  girdle  hangs,  his  only  shield ; 

The  well-known  habit  is  his  panoply ; 

That  Cross,  the  only  weapon  he  will  wield: 

By  day  he  bears  it  for  his  staff  afield, 

By  night  it  is  the  pillow  of  his  bed. 

No  other  lodging  these  wild  wood  can  yield 
Than  earth’s  hard  lap,  and  rustling  overhead 
A canopy  of  deep  and  tangled  boughs  for  spread.  ’ ’ 2 

to  have  been  an  Italian  missionary  by  the  name  of  Maroni.  But  whether  it 
was  he  or  someone  else,  it  is  certain  that  the  greater  part,  if  not  the  whole, 
of  the  Noticias  was  written  in  the  valley  of  the  Amazon.  For,  in  referring 
to  the  difficulties  incident  to  its  preparation  he  makes  the  following  declara- 
tion: “He  who  knows  the  little  or  no  tranquillity  there  is  for  writing  his- 

tories in  the  huts  of  the  savages  recently  gathered  together,  their  importunity 
in  besieging  the  missionary  at  all  hours,  and  in  fatiguing  him  with  stupid 
questions;  the  enervating  effect  of  the  excessively  hot  climate;  the  swarms 
of  mosquitoes  and  other  insects,  which  infest  even  the  eyes,  when  one  wishes 
to  read  or  write,  not  to  speak  of  other  annoyances,  will  not  be  surprised  at 
the  confused  and  unpolished  presentation  of  my  Noticias.”  From  the  preface 
— Al  Lector  C urioso. 

Compare  Up  the  Orinoco  and  down  the  Magdalena,  p.  150,  in  which  a mis- 
sionary on  the  banks  of  the  Meta  speaks  of  the  same  impediments  to  literary 
work.  But,  notwithstanding  the  difficulties  under  which  the  two  writers  in 
question  were  obliged  to  labor,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  they  have  produced 
two  of  the  most  important  and  instructive  volumes  that  have  ever  been 
written  on  the  missions  of  South  America.  For  the  benefit  of  the  reader, 
who  may  not  be  able  to  secure  the  exceedingly  rare  Noticias  Autenticas  del 
Harahon,  in  book  form,  it  may  be  observed  that  the  entire  work  has  ap- 
peared, with  notes,  by  M.  J.  de  la  Espada,  in  the  Boletin  de  la  Sociedad 
Geografica  de  Madrid,  from  1889  to  1892. 

1 One  of  Eliot’s  successors,  Sergeant  by  name,  although  a Calvinist,  de- 
clared he  had  “learned  not  to  meddle  with  high  themes,  as  predestination  and 
the  origin  of  evil,  but  preached  faith,  repentance  and  morality.” 

2 Canto  III,  Strophe  21. 


442 


CONQUISTADORES  OF  THE  CROSS 

His  wants  were  few  and  he  was  content  with  the  simplest 
fare  and  raiment.  He  may  have  been  of  noble  blood  and 
gentle  nurture,  but  be  was  glad  to  exchange  palace  and 
chateau  for  a palm-thatched  but  in  Amazonian  wilds.  If 
be  bad  not  a cabin  of  bis  own,  be  gratefully  accepted  such 
shelter  as  was  offered  him  by  the  denizens  of  the  forest. 
It  mattered  not  that  it  was  dark  and  smoky  and  noisome, 
alive  with  loathsome  insects  and  the  common  abode  of 
filthy  animals  and  jabbering  or  brawling  men  and  women. 
He  knew  bow  to  make  himself  all  to  all  men,  and  bow  to 
win  their  hearts  by  patience,  self-abnegation  and  sacrifice. 
He  ate  what  was  placed  before  him  and  concealed  any  re- 
pugnance that  the  strange  and  disgusting  food,  which  was 
frequently  offered  him,  was  calculated  to  excite.  He  knew 
no  luxuries,  for  all  these  be  bad  left  behind  him  in  Europe. 
His  usual  fare  was  cassava-bread  and  fish,  maize  and 
plantain.  If  these  could  not  be  bad  be,  like  the  Indian, 
would  uncomplainingly  appease  bis  hunger  by  roots  and 
nuts,  ants,  worms  and  other  creeping  things  even  more 
repulsive. 

If  bis  nomadic  and  whimsical  children  chose  to  change 
their  place  of  abode,  as  often  occurred  in  the  beginning  of 
their  conversion,  the  padre  followed  them.  Frequently 
their  course  was  through  dense  morasses,  when  the  wan- 
derers were  mired  to  the  waist ; at  others  it  was  along  the 
rough  bed  of  a mountain  torrent,  which  so  cut  and  inflamed 
the  naked  feet  as  to  cause  the  most  excruciating  agony. 
It  mattered  not  how  long  the  journey  lasted,  or  how  great 
were  the  privations  and  sufferings  that  had  to  be  endured, 
the  brave  and  loyal  shepherd  never  separated  from  his 
flock.  He  feared  no  danger  and  shrank  before  no  difficulty. 
Perils,  far  from  being  a deterrent,  had  a charm  for  him, 
and  the  martyr’s  crown,  that  often  awaited  him  in  the  dis- 
charge of  duty,  was  the  highest  incentive  to  heroic  deeds. 

“Freely  these  faithful  ministers  essayed 
The  arduous  enterprise,  contented  well 
If  with  success  they  sped,  or  if  as  martyrs  fell.” 

443 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


If,  through  the  machinations  of  jealous  sorcerers  and 
medicine  men,  or  through  the  perversity  of  rebellious  chiefs, 
whose  passions  made  them  dread  the  restraining  influence 
of  the  Gospel,  he  sealed  with  his  blood  the  noble  career  to 
which  he  had  vowed  himself,  there  was  another  ready  and 
willing  to  take  his  place.  “A  rude  field-cross  by  the  corner 
of  some  forest  and  the  inscription  Me  occisus  est,  is  all  that 
survives”  to  tell  of  his  charity  towards  his  fellow  men,  and 
of  his  obedience  to  the  command  of  the  Master,  “Euntes, 
docete  omnes  gentes” — “Go  and  teach  all  nations.” 

“We  fools  accounted  his  life  madness  and  his  end  to  be 
without  honor. 

“Now  he  is  numbered  among  the  children  of  God,  and  his 
lot  is  among  the  saints.” 

But  while  making  known  to  the  children  of  the  forest  the 
essentials  of  the  Gospel  of  Peace,  the  Spanish  missionaries 
did  not  forget  to  teach  them,  pari  passu , the  arts  of  civilized 
life.  They  converted  these  wild  hunters  and  fishermen 
into  skillful  artisans,  herdsmen  and  tillers  of  the  soil.  They 
collected  the  roving  and  scattered  tribes  from  the  hidden 
recesses  of  the  forest,  and  formed  them  into  peaceful  com- 
munities along  the  great  waterways  where  fish  and  game 
were  abundant,  and  where  they  could  be  always  under  the 
watchful  eye  of  their  spiritual  guides  and  protectors.  And, 
almost  before  the  civil  authorities  of  Quito  and  Lima  were 
aware  of  the  work  that  was  being  accomplished,  the  banks 
of  the  Huallaga  and  the  Amazon  were  dotted  with  flourish- 
ing towns  and  villages,  the  homes  of  peaceful  and  happy 
Indians  of  many  tribes  and  languages,  who  were  more 
highly  civilized  than  had  been  the  Incas  even  in  their 
palmiest  days,1  and  whose  children  knew  more  of  their 
Creator  and  of  His  relation  to  His  creatures  than  did  the 
wisest  men  of  Cuzco.  The  conquistadores  of  the  Cross, 

i And  more  civilized  than  the  Scotch  Highlanders  were  less  than  two  hun- 
dred years  ago  when,  according  to  Lecky’s  History  of  England  in  the 
Eighteenth  Century,  Chap.  VI,  they  were  “sunk  in  the  lowest  depths  of 
barbarism.” 


444 


CONQUISTADORES  OF  THE  CROSS 

with  only  the  crucifix  in  their  hands,  had  in  a few  short 
years  accomplished  what  neither  Inca  nor  Spanish  arms 
had  been  competent  to  achieve — the  subjugation  of  the 
countless  warlike  and  antagonistic  hordes  of  the  montana.1 

And,  what  is  more,  in  teaching  the  Indian  craftsmanship 
and  husbandry  and  stockraising,  they  prepared  him  not 
only  to  live  as  a civilized  being,  but  also  to  earn  his  own 
living  without  any  further  assistance  from  the  white  man. 
The  result  was  that  Spanish  America  was  but  little  vexed 
with  that  terrible  Indian  problem  which,  in  our  northern 
continent,  led  not  to  one  but  to  three  centuries  of  dishonor. 
In  a few  decades  the  followers  of  the  Poverello  of  Assisi, 
of  Dominic  and  Ignatius  Loyola,  were  able  to  effect  what 
our  great  statesman,  Henry  Clay,  declared  to  be  impossible 
— the  civilization  of  the  red  man.2 

And  they  achieved  more  than  this.  Acting  on  recom- 
mendations from  their  superiors,  from  bishop,  sovereign 
and  Pope,  they  brought  about  an  amalgamation  of  the 
native  and  European  races,  and  thus  made  impossible  those 
frequent  wars  of  extermination  of  the  aborigines  that  have 
cost  the  United  States  tens  of  thousands  of  lives  and  more 
than  half  a billion  of  treasure.  Instead  of  our  vacillating 
and  contradictory  policy  of  treating  the  Indians  at  one 

1 “Redueirlos  por  armas  se  ha  tenido  siempre  por  imposible,  respecto  de 
que  con  mudarse  de  un  lugar  & otro  6 internarse  en  lo  mas  espeso  de  la  mon- 
tafia, como  lo  han  hecho  en  las  ocasiones  que  se  les  ha  buseado,  quedan 
frustradas  las  diligencias,  perdidos  los  gastos  y espuestas  muchas  vidas  por 
las  enfermedadas  que  se  contrahen.  Y es  la  unica  esperanza  que  admitan 
misioneros,  y que  estos  con  halagos  y otras  industrias  los  atraigan,  que  ha 
sido  el  modo  con  que  se  has  logrado  las  reducciones  que  van  referidas,  y sera 
mayor  la  conquista  de  un  misionero  que  la  que  puede  hacer  un  numeroso 
ejercito.”  Memorias  de  los  Vireys  que  han  Gobernado  el  Peru  durante  el 
Tiempo  del  Coloniaje  Espanol,  Tom.  IV,  p.  63,  Lima,  1859. 

2 “Mr.  Clay  [when  Secretary  of  State]  said  that  it  was  impossible  to 

civilize  Indians;  that  there  never  was  a full-blooded  Indian  who  took  to  civ- 
ilization. It  was  not  in  their  nature.  He  believed  they  were  destined  to 
extinction,  and,  although  he  would  never  use  or  countenance  inhumanity 
towards  them,  he  did  not  think  them,  as  a race,  worth  preserving.  . . 

They  were  not  an  improvable  breed,  and  their  disappearance  from  the  human 
family  will  be  no  great  loss  to  the  world.”  Memoirs  of  John  Quincy  Adams, 
Vol.  VII,  p.  90,  Philadelphia,  1875. 

445 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


time  as  sovereign  and  independent  nations, — making  with 
them  nearly  seven  hundred  solemn  treaties  and  covenants, 
which  were  broken  almost  as  soon  as  signed,  and  at  an- 
other as  hosts  and  then  enemies,  and  at  still  another  as 
wards,  pensioners,  paupers  and  lunatics,  they  recognized 
them  as  children  of  a common  father  and  acted  towards 
them  with  a consideration  that  was  in  marked  contrast  with 
the  relentless  cruelty  and  injustice  which  ever  characterized 
our  dealings  with  them  in  our  land  of  boasted  freedom  and 
equality. 

Even  Raynal,  who  was  certainly  no  friend  of  religious 
orders,  is  forced  to  admit  that  certain  of  the  missions  in 
South  America  “had  arrived  at  perhaps  the  highest  de- 
gree of  civilization  to  which  it  is  possible  to  conduct  a young 
people  and  certainly  at  a state  far  superior  to  that  which 
existed  in  the  rest  of  the  new  hemisphere.  The  laws  were 
respected  there,  morals  were  pure,  a happy  brotherhood 
united  every  heart,  all  the  useful  arts  were  in  a flourishing 
state,  and  even  some  of  the  more  agreeable  sciences. 
Plenty  was  universal.”  1 

In  these  same  missions,  we  are  assured,  “not  a mortal 
crime  was  committed  in  a year.”  And  it  is  recorded  of  the 
Cahuapanas,  a tribe  on  the  Amazon,  that,  so  great  was  the 
humanizing  effect  of  Christian  teaching  in  them,  that  such 
a thing  as  a man  abusing  his  wife  by  act  or  word  was 
entirely  unknown. 

Such  results  could  never  have  been  achieved,  had  not  the 
missionary’s  heart  been  in  his  work,  and  had  he  not  had  a 
genuine  affection  for  the  people  committed  to  his  care. 
That  this  love  for  his  neophites  existed,  is  evidenced  by  the 
fact  that  only  obedience  could  withdraw  him  from  his 
cherished  children,  and  when  he  was  separated  from  them 
he  was  unhappy  until  he  could  rejoin  them.  Some  of  the 
missionaries  spent  forty  years  and  more  among  their  spir- 
itual children,  and  accounted  these  the  happiest  years  of 

i Histoire  Politique  et  Philosophique  des  Etablissements  et  du  Commerce  des 
Europtens  dans  les  Deux  Indes,  Vol.  IV,  p.  289,  Genfcve,  1780. 

446 


CONQUISTADORES  OF  THE  CROSS 

their  lives.  One  of  them,  who  had  labored  long  among  the 
Indians  of  the  upper  Amazon,  expresses  it  as  his  belief  that 
the  love  which  a missionary  has  for  the  children  that  he  has 
engendered  in  Christ  is  greater  than  that  of  any  carnal 
father  or  mother — excede  d mi  ver  d todo  amor  de  padre 
y aun  de  madre  carnal. 

This  affection  of  the  missionary  was  fully  reciprocated 
by  his  spiritual  children.  He  could  lead  them  where  he 
would.  When  he  was  with  them  they  were  happy;  when 
he  was  absent  they  were  forlorn.  Even  to-day,  after  an 
absence  of  a century  and  more,  the  father-priest,  as  he  is 
called,  is  a name  to  conjure  with  among  many  Indian  tribes 
of  the  montana,  who  know  of  him  only  through  the  tradi- 
tions which  have  come  down  to  them  from  their  forefathers. 
Wherever  his  ministrations  have  been  felt,  his  memory  is 
still  green.  They  still  long  for  his  return,  and  wonder  why 
he  remains  away  from  them  so  long.  And  if  he  were  to 
return  again,  he  would  be  joyfully  acclaimed  by  young  and 
old,  as  he  was  generations  ago, 

“Their  Father  and  their  Friend,  Priest,  Ruler,  all  in  all.”1 

But  when  we  consider  the  legislation  which  governed  the 
Spaniard  and  his  relations  with  the  American  race,  and  the 
point  of  view  from  which  the  aborigine  was  ever  regarded, 
it  is  not  surprising  that  the  results  achieved  in  dealing 
with  the  Indians  have  been  so  much  more  satisfactory  in 
Latin  America  than  those  realized  in  the  United  States,  and 
that  the  present  status  of  the  red  man  in  Spain’s  former 
colonies  in  the  New  World  is  incomparably  superior  to  that 
of  his  dusky  brother  in  the  north.  In  most  parts  of  South 
as  well  as  of  Central  America,  the  Indian  enjoys  by  law 
the  same  rights  of  citizenship  as  the  white  man,  and  may 
aspire  to  the  highest  offices  in  the  gift  of  the  people.  Full- 
blooded  Indians,  as  well  as  half-castes,  have,  ever  since  the 

1 Cf.  Voyage  d’  Exploration  d’  un  Missionaire  Dominieain  ohez  les  Tribus 
Sauvages  de  VEquateur,  Paris,  1889. 

447 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


conquest,  achieved  marked  distinction  in  every  walk  of  life, 
from  the  vale  of  Anahuac  to  the  pampas  of  Argentina. 

“The  Fatherhood  of  God  and  the  Brotherhood  of  Man” 
was  not  a mere  idle  phrase  in  the  mouth  of  the  Spanish 
viceroy,  and  still  less  in  that  of  the  Spanish  missionary. 
They  endeavored  honestly  to  carry  out  the  instructions  of 
their  sovereigns  and  the  commands  of  the  Popes  regarding 
the  treatment  of  the  Indians,  and  if  their  results  sometimes 
fell  short  of  the  wishes  of  civil  and  ecclesiastical  authorities, 
it  was  not  the  fault  of  legislation,  but  of  the  inefficiency 
and  corruption  of  the  agents  to  whom  the  execution  of  the 
laws  was  entrusted.  For  never  in  the  entire  history  of 
conquest  were  the  laws  made  in  behalf  of  the  conquered  so 
just  or  so  beneficent.  If  the  reader  has  any  doubt  of  this 
let  him  peruse  the  bulls  and  briefs  issued  in  favor  of  the 
American  indigenes  by  Paul  III  in  1537,  Urban  VIII  in 
1659,  Clement  XI  in  1706  and  Benedict  XIV  in  1741.  Let 
him  study  the  laws  framed  by  Charles  V,  Philip  II,  the 
Council  of  the  Indies,  and  the  bishops  of  the  New  World 
in  council  assembled.  Let  him  ponder  the  will  of  the  im- 
mortal Isabella,  whose  last  thought  was  for  her  cherished 
subjects  beyond  the  sea.1 

Pope  Paul  III  pronounced  a sentence  of  major  excom- 
munication against  those  who  should  deprive  the  Indians  of 
their  liberty  or  goods,  and  to  safeguard  the  weaker  race 
against  those  who  should  always  be  their  fathers  and  pro- 
tectors ex  officio,  the  first  council  of  Lima  issued  a decree 
of  excommunication  against  those  having  the  cure  of  souls, 
who  should  abuse  or  oppress  the  Indians  under  their  charge. 
And  so  much  had  Philip  II  the  welfare  of  his  new  vassals 
at  heart  that  he  enacted  a law  that  “the  offenses  committed 
against  the  Indians  should  be  punished  with  greater  sever- 
ity than  those  committed  against  Spaniards.”  2 

Philip  IV  went  even  so  far  as  to  decree  that  those  who 

1 Eistoria  Ecclesiastica  Indiana,  p.  31,  por  Fray  Geronimo  Mendieta,  pub- 
licada  por  Joaquin  Garcia  Icazbalceta,  Mexico,  1870. 

2 Recopilacion  de  las  Leyes  de  las  Indias,  Tom.  II,  Lib.  VI,  Tit.  X. 

448 


CONQUISTADORES  OF  THE  CROSS 

did  not  conform  to  the  instructions  contained  in  the  briefs 
of  Paul  III  and  Clement  VIII,  respecting  the  Indians, 
“should  be  handed  over  to  the  Inquisition  to  be  judged.” 

And  yet  more.  “From  a fear  lest  they” — the  Indians — 
“should  be  imposed  upon  in  their  dealings  with  the  Span- 
iards, they  were,”  writes  Helps,  following  Solorzano,  “con- 
sidered by  the  law  as  minors.  It  is  hardly  possible  to  carry 
legislation  further  in  favor  of  any  race  or  class.”  1 

But,  notwithstanding  all  this  beneficent  legislation  in 
favor  of  the  aborigine,  he  was,  nevertheless,  in  many  in- 
stances, the  victim  of  the  gravest  injustice  and  the  most 
barbarous  cruelty.  Of  this,  however,  I shall  not  speak. 
The  eloquent  Las  Casas  has  told  once  for  all  the  story  of 
the  Indian’s  wrongs  in  a way  that  admits  of  no  addition. 
Still  it  is  not  Spain  that  is  to  be  held  responsible  for  the 
inhumanity  practiced,  but  those  of  her  cruel  sons  whose 
lust  of  gold  and  power  made  them  robbers  and  oppressors 
of  those  of  whom  they  should  have  been  the  defenders  and 
guardians.  No  country  ever  did  more  to  protect  the  weak 
against  the  strong,  to  shield  the  innocent  and  the  helpless 
from  the  tyranny  of  the  soulless  invader.  And  how  ably 
she  was  seconded  in  her  endeavors  by  her  prelates  and 
missionaries,  by  Zumarraga  in  Mexico,  by  Piedrahita  in 
New  Granada,  by  Loyasa  and  Toribio  in  Peru,  by  Domini- 
cans, Franciscans,  Jesuits  everywhere,  but  especially  along 
the  Amazon,  the  Orinoco,  the  Rio  de  la  Plata  and  their 
tributaries,  who  strove  by  every  means  in  their  power,  to 
enforce  the  decrees  of  Pope  and  sovereign,  and  continue 
the  great  work  so  nobly  begun  by  Las  Casas ! 

But  no  legislation  of  the  crown,  and  no  devotion  of  the 
missionary  was  competent  to  eliminate  entirely  the  iniquity 
of  wicked  governors,  and  the  machinations  of  heartless 
adventurers  and  ambitious  soldiers  of  fortune.  Separated 

1 The  Spanish  Conquest  in  America,  Vol.  IV,  p.  240,  London,  1904.  “Gocen,” 
writes  Solorzano,  “de  todos  los  favores  y privilegios  que  a los  menores 
. . . se  conceden,  asi  en  lo  judicial,  como  en  lo  extrajudicial.”  Politica 

Indiana,  Tom.  I,  Lib.  II,  Cap.  XXVIII,  Madrid,  1776. 


449 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


from  Spain  by  the  broad  ocean,  and  from  the  viceroy  by 
trackless  forests,  these  enemies  of  law  and  order  felt  free 
to  follow  their  own  caprices  regardless  of  the  injustice  or 
suffering  that  might  be  entailed  on  the  defenseless  natives. 
Where  they  did  not  openly  violate  the  law,  they  treated  it 
as  a dead  letter.  “ Se  obedece  pero  no  se  cumple” — “I 
obey  but  I do  not  fulfill,”  was  the  attitude  that  many  of  the 
representatives  of  the  government  in  the  New  World  as- 
sumed towards  the  instructions  which  were  received  from 
the  mother  country.  And  when  we  reflect  that  it  took 
months  and  sometimes  years  to  reach  the  offenders  and 
right  the  wrongs  they  had  committed,  the  wonder  is  that 
the  helpless  Indian  fared  as  well  as  he  did.1 

Fortunately,  Spain  had  but  few  such  infamous  agents  as 
Ovando  and  Pedrarias.  And  fortunately,  too,  in  spite  of 
the  inhuman  tortures  which  individual  Indians  suffered  at 
the  hands  of  the  Spaniards,  the  race  in  South  America  has 

i When  we  speak  of  the  atrocities  of  the  Spaniards  towards  the  Indians, 
in  spite  of  the  laws  that  were  made  or  their  protection  by  Rome  and 
Madrid,  we  must  remember  that  we  are  dealing  with  an  age  when  similar, 
if  not  greater,  cruelties  were  practiced  on  the  negro  in  other  lands,  and  by 
peoples  who  affect  horror  at  the  treatment  of  the  Indians  in  the  Spanish 
colonies  of  the  New  World.  Let  us  remember  that  these  hapless  Africans, 
unlike  the  Indians,  had  “no  rights,  no  protection  against  the  caprices  of 
irresponsible  power”;  that  John  Hawkins,  who  was  the  first  Englishman 
to  take  part  in  this  nefarious  traffic  in  human  flesh,  was  knighted  by  Eliza- 
beth for  his  achievements — “burning  and  spoiling  the  towns”  of  the  natives 
of  Guinea;  that  the  English  Parliament,  far  from  protecting  the  black  man, 
encouraged  the  slave  trade,  and  that  “in  the  century  preceding  the  prohibi- 
tion of  the  slave  trade  by  the  American  Congress  in  1776,  the  number  of 
negroes  imported  by  the  English  alone  into  the  Spanish,  French  and  English 
colonies  can,  on  the  lowest  computation,  have  been  little  less  than  three 
millions,  and  that  we  must  add  more  than  a quarter  of  a million  who  per- 
ished on  the  voyage,  and  whose  bodies  were  thrown  into  the  Atlantic.” 

“These  figures,”  as  Lecky  well  observes,  “are  in  themselves  sufficiently 
eloquent.”  We  have  here  almost  as  many  negroes  ruthlessly  torn  from  their 
homes  and  sold  into  “a  hopeless,  abject  and  crushing  servitude,”  in  one  cen- 
tury and  by  one  nation,  as  there  were  Indians  in  the  whole  of  the  present 
territory  of  Peru  at  the  time  of  the  conquest.  See  A History  of  England 
in  the  Eighteenth  Century,  Vol.  II,  p.  242  et  seq.,  New  York,  1892,  and  Ban- 
croft’s History  of  the  Colonization  of  the  United  States,  Vol.  Ill,  Chap.  XXIV, 
Boston,  1860. 


450 


CONQUISTADORES  OF  THE  CROSS 

survived,  and  by  its  fusion  with  its  conquerors,  it  has  con- 
tinued to  propagate  and  to  rise  in  the  scale  of  humanity. 

This  is  the  reverse  of  what  has  taken  place  in  our  coun- 
try. Certain  individual  Indians  have  been  spared  the 
cruelties  which  were  inflicted  on  their  brethren  under 
Spanish  rule,  but  the  race  has  been  forced  to  recede  be- 
fore the  relentless  advance  of  the  white  man,  to  go  down 
fighting  for  their  homes  and  rights,  or  to  be  herded  on 
reservations,  until  driven  thence  by  the  cupidity  of  those 
whom  they  are  powerless  to  resist. 

“The  Spanish  national  conscience  recognized  the  obli- 
gation of  civilizing  and  Christianizing  the  Indians,  a task 
which  Spaniards  finally  accomplished.”  This  is  manifest 
everywhere  in  Spanish  America,  where  even  in  the  larger 
towns  and  cities,  Indians  and  half-castes  constitute  a ma- 
jority of  the  population.  And  the  process  of  amalgamation 
that  was  begun  in  the  first  days  of  the  conquest  still  con- 
tinues, and  the  mixed  race,  resulting  from  the  intermarriage 
of  whites  and  Indians,  is  daily  rising  in  civilization  and 
culture,  power  and  influence. 

Unfortunately,  however,  for  the  Indians  along  the 
Huallaga  and  the  Amazon,  as  for  their  brethren  in  the  ter- 
ritory watered  by  the  Orinoco  and  its  affluents,  the  splendid 
missionary  enterprise  that  achieved  such  remarkable  re- 
sults in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries,  has  been 
allowed  to  languish,  and  one  now  looks  in  vain  for  that 
activity  and  zeal  which  at  one  time  commanded  the  admi- 
ration of  the  entire  Christian  world. 

The  first  blow  to  the  missions  came  when  the  Jesuits  were 
expelled  from  the  Spanish  colonies  in  1767  by  Charles  III 
for  reason  ocultas  y reservadas.1  The  second  was  de- 
livered a few  decades  later  by  the  leaders  of  the  War  of 
Independence,  when  members  of  other  religious  orders  were 
driven  from  the  scenes  of  their  missionary  labors.  Since 

i “Mis  razones  solo  Dios  y yo  debemos  conocerlas.”  Historia  del  Reinado 
de  Carlos  III  en  Espana,  Vol.  II,  p.  122,  por  Antonio  Ferrer  del  Rio,  Madrid, 
1856. 


451 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


then,  owing  to  the  constantly  perturbed  condition  of  a 
greater  part  of  the  continent,  and  the  crippled  financial 
condition  of  most  of  the  republics,  little  has  been  done  for 
the  Indians  in  the  vast  territories  watered  by  the  Amazon, 
the  Orinoco  and  their  tributaries;  and,  as  a consequence, 
many  tribes  that  had,  under  the  missionaries,  made  such 
notable  advances  in  civilized  life,  have  lapsed  into  barba- 
rism and  returned  to  their  former  wild  life  in  the  recesses 
of  the  forest. 

Everywhere  along  the  Paranapura,  the  Huallaga  and  the 
Amazon,  there  exist  the  same  evidences  of  ruin  and  aban- 
donment as  I had  observed  along  the  great  waterways  of 
Venezuela  and  Colombia.  Where,  during  the  heyday  of 
missionary  activity,  there  were  flourishing  towns  and  vil- 
lages, there  are  now  but  a few  rickety  huts  tenanted  by  a 
few  wretched  Indians,  or  a riot  of  tropic  growth,  which  con- 
ceals every  trace  of  former  human  habitations.  Where 
there  were  at  one  time  extensive  grazing  lands,  over  which 
roamed  tens  of  thousands  of  cattle,1  the  property  of  peace- 

i Before  the  expulsion  of  the  missionaries  there  were  on  the  llanos  of 
Venezuela  and  Colombia  more  than  two  hundred  thousand  head  of  cattle 
in  charge  of  mission  Indians,  where  there  is  now  little  more  than  a wilder- 
ness. In  Paraguay,  according  to  a recent  traveler,  “The  vast  estancias,  in 
which  at  the  expulsion  more  than  a million  head  of  cattle  pastured,  were 
but  bare  plains,  in  which  the  cattle  that  were  left  had  all  run  wild  or 
perished  from  neglect.”  R.  B.  Cunninghame  Graham,  A Vanished  Arcadia, 
p.  285,  New  York,  1901. 

Great,  however,  as  was  the  economic  loss  to  Spain  and  subsequently 
to  the  Spanish  republics  of  South  America,  the  loss  in  territorial  posses- 
sions caused  by  the  expulsion  of  the  missionaries,  and  the  consequent  return 
of  the  Indians  to  their  former  wild  forest  life,  was  far  greater.  The  decree 
of  Charles  III  at  once  jeopardized  the  integrity  of  his  South  American 
colonies,  and  paved  the  way  for  the  usurpations  of  the  Portuguese  in  Brazil. 
While  the  missions  were  in  existence,  Portuguese  plans  for  territorial 
expansion  were  successfully  thwarted.  But  no  sooner  had  the  missionary 
phalanx  been  removed,  than  the  Portuguese  began  to  move  up  the  Amazon 
and  to  extend  their  frontier  toward  the  Cordilleras.  “The  possession  of 
these  usurpations,”  as  has  well  been  remarked,  “facilitated  at  a later  date 
the  occupation  by  Brazil  of  the  whole  of  the  belt  east  of  the  Andes,  the  most 
valuable  part  of  all  America.”  Cf.  Noticias  Secretas  de  America,  p.  542,  por 
Don  Jorge  Juan  y Don  Antonio  de  Ulloa,  London,  1826. 

It  is  interesting  to  speculate  what  would  be  the  present  condition  of  the 

452 


CONQUISTADORES  OF  THE  CROSS 

ful  and  industrious  natives,  there  is  now  a wilderness  with 
every  vestige  of  civilization  entirely  obliterated. 

When  I contemplated  these  scenes  of  desolation  made 
desolate,  my  heart  grew  heavy.  I pitied  the  abandoned 
Indians  who,  while  under  the  benign  guidance  of  the  padres, 
had  rapidly  risen  from  the  low  states  of  savagery,  in  which 
they  had  been  found,  and  who  gave  promise  of  soon  emu- 
lating their  brethren  on  the  plateau  as  Christians  and 
citizens,  and  marveled  at  the  mote-eyed  policy  of  the  govern- 
ments concerned  in  not  converting  all  this  latent  energy 
into  useful  channels,  instead  of  allowing  it  to  go  for  naught. 
Sound  political  economy,  if  not  Christian  charity  and  Chris- 
tian statesmanship  should,  one  would  think,  impel  legis- 
lators and  philanthropists  to  make  provision  for  again 
taking  up  the  work  which  was  so  unfortunately  interrupted 
by  the  expulsion  of  the  missionaries  who  had  so  nobly 
demonstrated  their  capacity  as  Christianizers  and  civil- 
izers. To  permit  thousands  of  able-bodied  men  to  roam 
wild  in  the  forest,  when  they  could  be  made,  as  they  were 
before,  useful  and  productive  citizens,  seems  to  evince  not 
only  a deplorable  lack  of  statesmanship  but  also  a total 
absence  of  that  humanitarian  spirit  which  should  dominate 
the  councils  of  every  Christian  republic. 

Say  what  we  will  against  the  Spaniards,  the  Indian  of 
the  montana  fared  far  better  under  Spain  than  he  has  ever 
fared  under  any  of  the  South  American  republics.  For, 
with  the  single  exception  of  Charles  III,  in  the  instance 
cited,  the  Spanish  monarchs  were  always  generous,  and  at 
times  munificent  in  their  support  of  the  Indian  missions, 
and  gave  the  directors  of  them  every  assistance  in  their 
power.  Nor  was  there  but  a feint  of  sincerity  in  their  pro- 

Indians  in  the  montana,  if  the  salutary  work  of  the  missionaries  had  not 
been  interrupted  by  Charles  III  and  Bolivar.  It  is  certain  that  the  broad 
zone  east  of  the  Andes,  extending  from  the  llanos  of  Colombia  to  the 
pampas  of  Argentina,  would  be  a much  greater  economic  and  political 
asset  than  it  is  now,  and  it  is  equally  certain  that  the  frontier  between 
Brazil  and  the  various  Spanish  republics  would  have  quite  a different  loca- 
tion. 


453 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


fessed  love  for  their  dusky  subjects  of  the  American  forest. 
They  were  all  moved  by  the  same  spirit  that  actuated 
Philip  II  when  he  refused  to  abandon  the  Philippines,  be- 
cause they  were  a source  of  expense  instead  of  revenue  to 
the  Spanish  crown. 

And  the  leading  conquistadores,  in  spite  of  their  faults 
and  the  cruelties  of  many  of  them,  manifested  a genuine 
and  practical  interest  in  the  conversion  of  the  Indian,  and, 
like  their  sovereigns,  were  ever  ready  to  cooperate  with  the 
ministers  of  the  Gospel  in  securing  for  the  conquered  races 
the  benefits  of  Christian  civilization  and  culture. 

“The  conversion  of  the  heathen,’ ’ writes  Prescott,  “was 
a predominant  motive  with  Cortes  in  his  expedition.  It 
was  not  a vain  boast.  He  would  have  sacrificed  his  life  for 
it  at  any  time,  and  more  than  once,  by  his  indiscreet  zeal, 
he  actually  did  place  his  life  and  the  success  of  his  enter- 
prise in  jeopardy.  It  was  his  great  purpose  to  purify  the 
land  from  the  brutish  abominations  of  the  Aztecs  by  sub- 
stituting the  religion  of  Jesus.  This  gave  to  his  expedition 
the  character  of  a crusade.  It  furnished  the  best  apology 
for  the  conquest,  and  does  more  than  all  other  consider- 
ations toward  enlisting  our  sympathies  on  the  side  of  the 
conquerors.”  1 

Even  that  “son  of  sin  and  sorrow,”  Francisco  Pizarro, 
was  not  the  base  and  mercenary  character  that  he  is  fre- 
quently depicted.  Neither  of  him  nor  of  his  companions, 
with  certain  exceptions,  can  one  truly  say  that  the  lust  of 
gold  was  the  sole  “stimulus  to  their  toil,  the  price  of 
perfidy,  the  true  guerdon  of  their  victories.”  There  may 
have  been,  among  his  followers,  “convicts  and  ruffians,  the 
sweepings  of  prisons  and  purlieurs,”  hut  it  is  paltering  with 
truth  to  say  even  of  the  conquerors  of  Peru, 

“Bajo  color  de  religion 
Van  a buscar  plata  y oro.”  1 

1 The  Conquest  of  Peru,  Book  XIV,  Chap.  V. 

2 “Under  the  color  of  religion,  they  go  in  quest  of  gold  and  silver.” 


454 


CONQUISTADORES  OF  THE  CROSS 

I do  not  say  that  Pizarro  and  his  companions  did  not 
desire  gold.  They  did  desire  it,  and,  under  the  circum- 
stances, it  could  not  have  been  otherwise.  But  the  desire 
for  riches  was  secondary.  For  they  recognized  that,  high 
above  gold,  there  is  a sphere  in  which  man  ennobles  himself 
by  serving  God  and  humanity.  They  desired  glory,  but 
they  desired  to  secure  it  by  propagating  the  religion  of 
Christ  which  their  fatherland,  notwithstanding  the  weak- 
ness of  poor  humanity,  loved  with  an  ardor  that  has  never 
been  surpassed.1  They  were  first  and  foremost  crusaders 
of  the  Faith,  and  could  say  with  Calderon’s  Principe 
Constante, 

“La  fe  de  Dios  a engrandecer  venimos 
Suyo  sera  el  honor,  suya  la  gloria.”  2 

They  had  the  faith  that  guided  Columbus  across  the  Sea 
of  Darkness,  that  carried  Cortes  to  the  capital  of  Monte- 
zuma, that  conducted  Quesada  to  the  plateau  of  Cundina- 
marca,  that  led  Orellana  down  the  mighty  Amazon, — the 
faith,  which,  as  Lope  de  Vega  beautifully  expresses  it,  gave 

“A1  Rey  infinitas  tierras. 

Y a Dios  infinitas  almas.”  3 

With  the  conquistadores  of  the  sword  and  the  conquista- 
dores  of  the  cross  acting  in  concert  and  striving  to  carry  out 

1 For  an  account  of  the  conquest  that  does  more  justice  to  Pizarro  in  his 
dealings  with  the  Indian  than  is  usually  accorded  him,  the  reader  is  re- 
ferred to  Historia  del  Peru,  Lib.  II,  Cap.  XVII,  and  Appendice  XII,  by  P. 
Ricardo  Cappa,  Lima,  1886.  Referring  to  this  subject,  Sr.  E.  Larrabure  y 
Unanue  declares  that  “It  is  a fact  not  sufficiently  understood  that  it  was  not 
only  the  thirst  of  gold  but  also  the  love  of  glory  and  patriotism  that  were 
the  prime  movers  which  animated  Nunez  de  Balboa  as  well  as  the  sympathetic 
Hernando  Cortez,  Francisco  Pizarro  and  Alamagro,  Juan  de  la  Torre  and 
many  others;  and  it  is  now  time  that  we  should  be  just,  without  inclining 
the  balance  more  to  one  side  than  to  the  other.”  Monografias  Historico-Amer- 
icanas,  p.  407,  Lima,  1893. 

2 “We  have  come  to  aggrandize  the  faith  of  God.  His  will  be  the  honor, 
His  the  glory.” 

3 “To  the  King  infinite  lands,  and  to  God  infinite  souls.” 

455 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


the  instructions  of  Pope  and  sovereign  respecting  the  native 
races,  it  is  not  surprising  that  such  beneficent  results  were 
achieved,  and  that  the  Indians  of  Latin  America  to-day 
are  so  numerous  and  occupy  so  much  higher  a plane 
in  civilized  life  than  do  their  maltreated  brethren  in 
the  United  States.  Had  they  not  come  under  the  baleful 
influence  of  soulless  adventurers  or  heartless  encomenderos, 
the  results  would  be  far  more  glorious,  and  the  historian 
would  now  be  spared  the  recital  of  those  stories  of  cruelty 
and  atrocity  which  have  so  dimmed  the  splendors  of  the 
otherwise  marvelous  achievements  of  the  Spanish  con- 
quest. 

Kingsley,  commenting  on  the  present  condition  of  Trini- 
dad, and  considering  what  the  aborigines  might  be  to-day, 
had  the  relations  of  the  Spaniards  towards  them  been  dif- 
ferent, exclaims,  “What  might  this  place  have  become  dur- 
ing the  three  hundred  and  fifty  years  that  have  elapsed 
since  Columbus  first  sailed  around  it!  What  a race,  of 
mingled  Spaniard  and  Indian,  might  have  grown  up 
throughout  the  West  Indies ! What  a life,  what  a society, 
what  an  art,  what  a science  it  might  have  developed  ere 
now,  equaling,  even  surpassing,  that  of  Ionia,  Athens,  and 
Sicily,  till  the  famed  isles  and  coasts  of  Greece  should  have 
been  almost  forgotten  in  the  new  fame  of  the  isles  and 
coasts  of  the  Caribbean  Sea.”  1 

But  if  this  could  be  said  of  the  natives  of  the  West  Indies, 
with  how  much  greater  truth  could  it  be  asserted  of  the 
aborigines  of  Peru,  of  those  wonderful  Incas  whose  musical 
speech  is  still  heard  from  Santiago  del  Estero  to  the  banks 
of  the  Huallaga  and  the  Amazon?  What  a beneficent  moral 
revolution  would  hqve  been  effected,  if  the  example  of  the 
earliest  conquistadores,  in  marrying  the  noble  daughters  of 
the  Incas,  had  been  followed  by  their  successors!  What 
a vigorous  and  intelligent  offspring  would  have  resulted 
from  the  crossing  of  races  so  distinct  and  so  superior  as 
those  represented  by  the  nustas  of  Cuzco  and  Quito,  and 

* At  Last,  p.  154.  New  York,  1905. 

456 


CONQUISTADORES  OF  THE  CROSS 

the  hidalgos  of  Castile  and  Andalusia ! How  these  daugh- 
ters of  the  blood  royal,  raised  to  the  dignity  of  wives  of 
the  conquerors  would,  by  their  position  and  influence,  have 
contributed  to  the  elevation  of  their  less  fortunate  sisters, 
by  having  them  see  that  the  foreigners,  far  from  regarding 
them  as  pariahs  of  an  abject  race,  treated  them  as  equals ! 
Had  the  repeated  orders  of  the  crown  of  Castile  been 
obeyed,  that,  so  far  as  compatible  with  individual  liberty, 
the  Spaniards  should  be  induced  to  wed  the  princesses  of 
the  line  of  Manco  Capac,  what  a splendid  race  would  now 
command  our  admiration  through  the  length  and  the  breadth 
of  what  was  once  the  great  Inca  empire ! Scholars  and 
historians  like  Garcilaso  de  la  Vega  and  Bishop  Piedrahita, 
to  mention  but  two  half-castes  resulting  from  such  unions 
— many  others  might  be  mentioned — suffice  to  demonstrate 
the  wisdom  of  the  policy  of  both  Spain  and  the  Church 
regarding  the  amalgamation  of  the  races  of  the  New  and 
the  Old  Worlds.1 

But  great  as  was  the  work  of  the  missionaries,  wherever 
the  banner  of  Castile  and  Leon  was  unfurled,  in  civilizing 
and  Christianizing  the  aborigines,  I cannot  close  this  chap- 
ter on  their  achievements  in  the  montana  without  some 
reference  to  their  contributions  to  our  knowledge  of  the 
country  which  they  knew  so  well,  and  of  the  people  among 
whom  they  labored  to  such  good  purpose. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  lands  drained  by  the  Hual- 
laga  and  the  Amazon  were  better  known  two  centuries  ago 
than  they  are  to-day,  and  most  of  the  knowledge  which  we 
now  possess  respecting  the  various  tribes  that  formerly  in- 
habited this  broad  territory,  is  derived  from  the  works  of1 
missionaries,  some  of  whom  wrote  more  than  three  cen- 
turies ago.  For,  contrary  to  what  is  often  thought,  the 
first  explorers  of  many  of  the  great  rivers  of  South  Amer- 
ica were  not  government  agents  or  the  representatives  of 
learned  societies,  but  the  members  of  various  religious 

1 Cf.  L’  America  un  Tempo  Spagnuola,  Tom.  II,  Cap.  XIX,  di  Gaetano 
Baluffi,  Ancona,  1845. 


457 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


orders,  who  distinguished  themselves  by  writing  books  and 
making  maps,  as  well  as  by  preaching  to  savages. 

Thus  the  first  and  best  map  of  the  montana  of  Peru,  em- 
bracing the  immense  territories  watered  by  the  Huallaga 
and  the  Ucayali,  is  the  work  of  the  Franciscan,  Padre 
Sobreviela,  aided  by  a confrere,  Padre  Girbal  y Barcelo. 
‘‘This  accomplished  priest,”  says  Raimondi,  “stands  head 
and  shoulders  above  all  the  other  missionaries  who  have 
traversed  the  inhospitable  forest  region  located  at  the  east 
of  the  majestic  Cordillera  of  the  Andes  of  Peru,  and  is  one 
of  those  who  have  contributed  most  to  the  progress  of  geo- 
graphical science. 

“His  map  of  the  montana,  published  in  1791,  the  greater 
part  of  which  the  distinguished  missionary  personally  ex- 
plored,” the  same  eminent  geographer  continues,  “gives  a 
clear  idea  of  the  extent  of  the  infinite  labors  of  the  small 
and  pacific  crusade  of  the  self-sacrificing  missionaries  who 
sprinkled  with  their  blood  those  virgin  forests  during  their 
gradual  conquest  of  the  heathen.  It  shows  the  numerous 
pueblos,  which  those  patient  and  valiant  soldiers  of  the 
Faith  had  succeeded  in  founding  during  their  long  and 
laborious  task — pueblos  the  result  of  many  years  of  as- 
siduous and  constant  labor — which  have  unfortunately  dis- 
appeared.1 It  shows  also  that  more  than  a century  and  a 
half  before  Humboldt  went  to  Peru,  and  more  than  two 
centuries  before  our  first  American  explorers,  Herndon  and 
Gibbon,  descended  the  Huallaga  and  the  Madeira,  the  zeal- 
ous sons  of  St.  Francis  had  made  the  famous  Pampa  del 
Sacramento,  bounded  by  the  Huallaga  and  the  Ucayali,  the 
theater  of  their  missionary  labors.2 

1 El  Peru,  Tom.  II,  Cap.  XXX. 

2 The  reader  who  is  interested  in  the  Franciscan  missions  on  the  Huallaga 
and  the  Ucayali,  may  consult  with  profit,  Crdmica  de  la  religiosisima 
provineia  de  los  Doze  Apostoles  del  Peru  de  la  Orden  de  N.  P.  S.  Francisco 
de  la  regular  observancia,  Cap.  XXXII  to  XXXIV,  por  el  R.  P.  Fr.  Diego  de 
Cordova  Salimas,  Lima,  1651,  and  Compendio  Eistorico  de  los  Trabajos, 
Fatigas,  Sudores  y Muertes  que  los  Ministros  Evangelicos  de  la  Serafica 
Religion  han  padeddo  por  la  Conversion  de  las  Almas  de  los  Gentiles  en 

458 


CONQUISTADORES  OF  THE  CROSS 

The  first  map  of  the  Amazon  of  any  value  was  made  by 
Padre  Fritz,  a Bohemian  Jesuit,  who  spent  forty  years  as 
a missionary  among  the  Indians  of  the  Huallaga  and  the 
Amazon.1  He  was  the  first  to  explore  the  Amazon  from  its 
source  to  its  mouth,  and  the  first  to  correct  the  error  of 
Padre  Acuna  and  others,  who  regarded  the  headwaters  of 
the  Napo,  and  not  Lauricocha,  as  the  source  of  the  world’s 
greatest  river. 

When  one  remembers  that  this  indefatigable  explorer  had 
to  make  his  long  journeys  up  and  down  the  Amazon  and 
its  tributaries  in  a simple  dugout,  that  his  map  was  con- 
structed without  instruments  for  determining  longitude, 
and  with  only  a wooden  semicircle,  three  inches  in  di- 
ameter, for  obtaining  latitudes,  it  is  really  surprising 
that  he  was  able  to  accomplish  as  much  as  he  did.  It 
is  only  when  one  compares  it  with  the  map  executed  a 
half  century  subsequently  by  the  noted  academician, 
La  Condamine,  that  one  realizes  the  merit  of  his  per- 
formance.2 

An  adequate  account  of  the  contributions  made  to  geo- 
graphic and  ethnologic  science  by  the  early  missionaries  in 
South  America,  would  require  a large  volume.  Many  of 
their  works  have  been  published,  some  of  them  only  re- 
cently, while  others  still  exist  in  manuscript  in  the  archives 
of  various  religious  orders  to  which  the  missionaries  be- 
longed. And  some  of  them,  alas ! have  been  lost  or  de- 
stroyed. Thus,  many  priceless  manuscripts  treating  of  the 
expeditions  and  labors  of  the  missionaries  among  the  divers 

las  Montanas  de  los  Andes  pertenecientes  a las  Provincias  del  Peru,  por 
el  P.  Fr.  Jos6  Amich,  Paris,  1854,  and  Memorias  de  los  Vireys.  Tom.  VI, 
Cap.  IX,  for  the  Montana  Real,  and  the  interesting  map  of  this  region  made 
in  1795  by  the  Franciscan  missionary,  Fray  Joaquin  Soler,  but  four  years 
after  the  publication  of  Sebraviela’s  map. 

1 Sanson’s  map  of  the  Amazon,  which  was  based  entirely  on  Padre  Acuna’s 
Nuevo  Descrubrimiento  del  Gran  Rio  de  las  Amazonas,  and  made  without  the 
aid  of  astronomical  or  geodetic  data  of  any  kind,  has  no  merit  whatever,  ex- 
cept that  of  being  the  first. 

2 See  map  in  Relation  Abrdgde  d ’un  Voyage  fait  dams  l’  IntSrieur  de  l’ 
Amdrique  Mdridionale,  par  M.  de  la  Condamine,  Maestricht,  1778. 

459 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Indian  tribes,  now  extinct,  were  lost  at  the  time  of  the  ex- 
pulsion of  the  Jesuits  by  Charles  III. 

To  read  certain  recent  works  on  South  America,  one 
would  infer  that  the  exploration  of  most  of  the  tributaries 
of  the  Orinoco,  the  Amazon  and  the  Plata  has  been  the  work 
of  German,  French,  English  or  American  travelers  during 
the  past  hundred  years.1  Thus,  to  give  two  instances  of 
many  that  might  be  adduced,  three  centuries  before 
Crevaux  lost  his  life  under  the  blows  of  the  Toba  in  the 
Gran  Chaco,  San  Francisco  Solano,  a Franciscan,  had  de- 
scended the  Pilcomayo  “to  its  junction  with  the  Paraguay, 
through  territories  but  little  explored  even  to-day.”  And 
a century  and  a half  before  the  ill-fated  Frenchman,  just 
mentioned,  had  his  brilliant  career  cut  short,  the  very  re- 
gion he  started  to  explore  had  been  fully  described  by  the 
missionary,  Padre  Pedro  Lozano,  in  an  elaborate  work 
which  gives  a full  account  of  its  fauna,  flora,  inhabitants 
and  chief  geographical  features. 

And,  still  more  remarkable,  nearly  three  centuries  and  a 
half  before  Orton  voyaged  down  the  Napo  he  had  been  pre- 
ceded by  a son  of  St.  Dominic,  Fray  Gaspar  de  Carvajal, 
who  has  left  us  a precious  record  of  the  expedition  in  which 
he  took  so  conspicuous  a part.  But  of  this  more  in  the 
following  chapter. 

In  the  minds  of  many  the  montana  of  Peru  and  Ecuador 
is  still  as  much  of  a terra  incognita  as  was  equatorial  Africa 

1 Cf.  Boletin  de  la  Sociedad  Geografica  de  Madrid,  Tom.  VII,  p.  333,  et  seq., 
wherein  Marcos  Jimenez  de  la  Espada  shows  that  the  Putumayo,  which  a 
certain  French  publication  had  stated  was  unknown  until  its  exploration 
by  Crevaux  in  1879,  had  been  explored  by  Juan  de  Sosa  in  1609,  and  that, 
nearly  two  centuries  before  the  intrepid  Frenchmen  had  visited  this  part  of 
the  world,  the  region  drained  by  this  great  tributary  of  the  Amazon  counted 
several  flourishing  Franciscan  and  Dominican  missions. 

More  remarkable  still,  L’  Exploration,  Paris,  of  Feb.  17,  1881,  speaks  of 
a trip  made  by  M.  Charles  Wiener  down  the  old  and  well-known  missionary 
route  by  way  of  the  Papallacta  and  the  Napo  as  something  that  had  never 
before  been  undertaken — que  n’  avait  jamais  et6  entrepris — as  an  expedition 
which  the  natives  pronounced  impracticable — une  expedition  que  les  gens  du 
pays  jugeaient  entierment  impracticable!!! 


460 


CONQUISTADORES  OF  THE  CROSS 

before  the  expeditions  of  Speke,  Stanley  and  Schweinfurth. 
That  this  should  be  the  case,  shows  how  little  attention 
has  been  given  to  the  numerous  works,  many  of  them  of 
rare  merit,  which  have  been  written  on  the  missions  of  the 
Huallaga  and  the  Amazon  and  its  western  tributaries. 
Many  of  the  most  interesting  of  these  books  have  been 
written  by  missionaries  who  devoted  the  best  years  of  their 
lives  to  evangelizing  and  civilizing  the  Indians  in  these 
little-known  regions,  while  others  were  compiled  from  let- 
ters and  reports  sent  by  the  missionaries  to  their  respective 
superiors.  If  the  general  knowledge  of  these  works  com- 
ported with  their  merits,  few  parts  of  South  America  would 
be  better  known  than  the  scenes  in  the  upper  Amazon  basin 
of  the  great  missionary  activity  of  the  seventeenth  and 
eighteenth  centuries. 

And  yet  more.  Like  Africa  of  old,  this  same  montana  is 
still,  even  by  those  who  should  be  better  informed,  regarded 
as  a terra  portentosa — a land  infested  by  dread  savages  and 
ruthless  cannibals — which  one  may  not  traverse  without 
always  being  in  imminent  danger  of  losing  his  life.  Such 
a view,  as  has  already  been  indicated,  is  utterly  without 
foundation  in  fact. 

But,  how  much  better  would  be  the  present  condition 
of  this  extensive  country,  how  much  thriftier  and  happier 
the  Indians  would  now  be,  if  the  padres,  who  achieved 
so  much  for  their  forefathers,  had  been  left  among 
them  to  continue  their  labor  of  love,  can  easily  be 
divined  by  those  who  will  but  glance  at  some  of  the 
works  bearing  on  the  development  of  Christianity  and 
civilization  in  this  much  neglected  part  of  our  sister  con- 
tinent. 

We  honor,  and  deservedly  so,  explorers  like  Livingstone 
and  Mungo  Park,  Humboldt  and  Bonpland,  who  risked 
health  and  life  to  extend  our  knowledge  of  the  earth  and 
its  inhabitants,  but  while  we  unite  in  giving  them  the  meed 
of  praise  which  is  their  due,  let  us  not  forget  the  names 
of  Gaspar  de  Carvajal  and  Laureano  de  Cruz,  Fritz,  Veigel, 

461 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

Sobraviela  and  Soler,  the  heroic  missionary  explorers  of 
the  Huallaga  and  the  Amazon.1 

i Among  the  most  valuable  works,  besides  those  referred  to,  bearing  on 
the  missionaries  as  evangelizers  and  explorers  of  the  Huallaga  and  the 
basin  of  the  upper  Amazon,  are  the  following:  Descubrimiento  del  Rio  de 

las  Amazonas  segun  la  Relacion  hasta  ahora  Inedita  de  Fr.  Gaspar  de  Car- 
vajal,  Sevilla,  1894;  Nuevo  descubrimiento  del  rio  Marahon,  llamado  de  las 
Amazonas,  hecho  por  la  religion  de  San  Francisco,  ano  de  1651,  por  Fr. 
Laureano  de  la  Cruz,  Madrid,  1890;  Viage  del  Capitan  Pedro  Texeira  aguas 
arriba  del  Rio  de  las  Amazonas,  1637-1638,  Madrid,  1889;  Nuevo  descubri- 
miento del  gran  rio  de  las  Amazonas  por  el  Padre  Cristoval  de  Acuna , 
Madrid,  1641;  El  Maraiion  y Amazonas,  por  el  Padre  Manuel  Rodriguez, 
Madrid,  1684;  Historia  de  las  Misiones  del  Maraiion  Espanol,  por  P.  Jose 
Chantre  y Herrera,  Madrid,  1901 ; Relacion  de  las  Missiones  de  la  Compania 
de  Jesus  en  el  Pais  de  los  Maynas,  por  el  P.  Francisco  de  Figueroa,  Madrid, 
1904;  Lettres  Edifiantes  et  Curieuses,  Tom.  II,  La  Partie,  Am&rique  M6- 
ridionale,  Paris,  1841,  and  numerous  articles  in  Mercurio  Peruano. 


462 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  AMAZON 

©aAarra,  66.x arra — The  Sea!  The  Sea! — was  the  joyous 
shout  of  Xenophon’s  brave  ten  thousand  when,  after 
their  long  and  eventful  march  over  the  plains  and  moun- 
tains of  hostile  Persia,  they  at  last,  weary  and  footsore, 
caught,  from  the  heights  of  Mt.  Theches,  the  first  long- 
desired  glimpse  of  the  shimmering  waves  of  the  friendly 
Euxine.  They  felt  then  that  the  dangers  and  harassments 
of  their  arduous  expedition  were  finally  at  an  end,  and  that 
they  would  soon  be  among  their  own  countrymen,  from 
whom  they  had  so  long  been  separated. 

A similar  feeling,  but  for  a different  reason,  dominated 
me,  when,  from  the  embouchure  of  the  Huallaga,  I descried 
the  broad  waters  of  the  majestic  Amazon.  I had,  it  is  true, 
seen  it  before,  but  it  was  then  but  a brawling  stream,  or  a 
canon-cutting  torrent  in  the  Cordilleras.  Now  it  was  the 
mighty  Orellana  sweeping  along  in  silent  dignity  and 

“Swell’d  by  a thousand  streams,  impetuous  hurl’d 
From  all  the  roaring  Andes.” 

The  reader  will  then  understand  the  almost  overmaster- 
ing impulse,  that  swayed  me  at  the  first  view  of  this  long 
and  eagerly  sought  Father  of  Waters,  and  nearly  impelled’ 
me  to  express  my  delight,  as  did  the  Creeks  of  old,  by  an 
exultant  shout.  But  although  I repressed  my  emotion,  so 
far  as  the  shouting  was  concerned,  I made  no  attempt  to 
restrain  my  joy  on  attaining  at  last  the  goal  of  the  heart’s 
desire,  and  the  enthusiastic  manner  in  which  I exclaimed, 
“The  Amazon!  The  Amazon!”  afforded  not  a little  amuse- 
ment to  the  native  passengers,  who  could  see  no  more 

463 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


in  this  great  waterway  than  in  its  noble  tributary  on  which 
we  had  been  sailing,  and  which  almost  rivaled  in  magnitude 
the  stupendous  flood  which  we  were  just  entering. 

The  shades  of  night  were  falling  as  we  reached  the  mouth 
of  the  Huallaga,  but,  we  had  scarcely  gotten  out  on  the 
broad  expanse  of  the  Amazon,  when  river  and  forest  were 
lit  up  by  the  subdued  light  of  the  rising  moon.  The  vision 
was  grand  and  sublime  beyond  expression.  The  silent  and 
tawny  flood,  as  it  rolled  with  resistless  momentum  towards 
the  distant  ocean,  cutting  away  its  banks  in  one  place  and 
building  up  islands  in  another ; the  dark  and  solemn  wilder- 
ness investing  this  somber  and  immemorial  waste  of  waters 
— all  were  calculated  to  awaken  emotions  of  sublimity  and 
awe  such  as  I had  rarely  experienced  before  in  any  part  of 
the  world. 

So  prodigious  is  the  mass  of  water  which  this  immense 
river  carries  to  the  Atlantic  that  it  surpasses,  according  to 
Paz  Soldan,  that  of  the  combined  floods  of  the  Obi,  Lena, 
Amoor,  Yellow,  Yang-tse-Kiang,  Ganges,  Indus,  Euphrates 
and  Yellow  river — the  eight  great  rivers  of  Asia.  And  so 
deep  is  it  that  La  Condamines  was  unable,  near  its  conflu- 
ence with  the  Purus,  to  find  bottom  at  a depth  of  one  hun- 
dred and  three  fathoms.  Its  width  varies  with  the  seasons. 
With  the  exception  of  the  narrows  near  Obidos,  it  is  usually 
several  miles  wide,  even  in  its  upper  reaches,  but,  during  the 
rainy  season,  the  whole  country  is  submerged  over  an  area 
of  tens  of  thousands  of  square  miles.  Then  the  river  pre- 
sents the  appearance  of  a vast  inland  sea  and  justifies  the 
name  given  it  by  the  early  explorers  of  Bio-Mar — River- 
Sea.  So  great,  indeed,  is  the  flood  that  then  comes  pouring 
down  the  eastern  slopes  of  the  Andes  through  the  countless 
water-courses  that  furrow  this  great  mountain  chain,  that 
the  Amazon  in  places  rises  to  a height  of  no  less  than  thirty 
or  forty  feet  above  what  it  is  during  the  dry  season.1 

1 The  difference  between  the  highest  and  lowest  level  at  Iquitos  is  from 
thirty  to  forty  feet;  at  Manaos  and  other  points  in  Brazilian  territory  it 
varies  from  forty  to  sixty-five  feet. 

464 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  AMAZON 


When  the  inundation  is  at  its  height,  the  water  in  places 
rises  almost  to  the  crowns  of  the  giants  of  the  forest.1 
Then  the  view  of  this  inland  sea — the  Mediterranean  of 
South  America — is  indescribably  imposing.  Animals  and 
men  seek  refuge  in  the  tree-tops,  and  calmly  await  the  sub- 
sidence of  the  flood.  The  noted  missionary,  Padre  Fritz, 
tells  us  how  he  was  detained  a prisoner  for  nearly  three 
months  in  the  top  of  a tree,  living  on  fish,  wild  fruit  and 
plantains,  and  how  his  life  was  in  constant  danger  from 
the  number  of  crocodiles  and  other  wild  animals  that  gath- 
ered about  him  during  this  trying  period,  contesting  his 
possession  of  this  precarious  lodgment  and  robbing  him  of 
the  scanty  stock  of  provisions  that  stood  between  him  and 
starvation. 

During  such  times  the  ocean  seems  to  have  invaded  the 
interior  of  the  continent,  as  if  to  regain  possession  of  the 
vast  territory  which  formed  a part  of  its  empire  even  dur- 
ing late  geologic  time,  and  one  then  wonders  if  one  will 
ever  again  see  terra  firma  rise  above  the  turbid,  relentless 
and  unbounded  waste  of  waters.  But,  in  spite  of  appear- 
ances to  the  contrary,  the  deluge,  after  a few  months’  tri- 
umph, gradually  subsides,  and  the  great  Amazonian  basin 
resumes  its  wonted  aspect.  Wild  beasts  again  seek  their 
lairs  and  the  Indian  unburies  his  store  of  mandioca,  which, 

i The  height  of  the  trees  along  the  Amazon  rarely  exceeds  one  hundred 
feet,  which  is  far  below  that  of  our  towering  pines  and  red-woods  of  Wash- 
ington and  California.  There  is,  however,  a notable  exception,  namely,  the 
Bertolettia  exoelsa,  commonly  known  as  the  Brazil-nut  tree.  This  superb 
tree  frequently  towers  a hundred  feet  and  more  above  the  surrounding  for- 
est. Its  stately  trunk,  which  is  often  without  a single  branch  for  a hundred 
feet,  is  sometimes  from  ten  to  fifteen  feet  in  diameter  and  is  surmounted  by 
a noble,  thick-leaved  crown,  which  is  visible  at  a great  distance.  Although 
not  so  high,  a more  imposing  forest  monarch  is  the  Sumaumeira — Erioden- 
dron  Sumauma.  There  is  one  on  the  Rio  Branco,  whose  dome  of  foliage 
can  give  shelter  to  ten  thousand  men.  This  eclipses  completely  the  famous 
chestnut  tree  on  Mt.  Etna  and  the  mammoth  Baobab  of  Senegambia.  The 
ancients  would  have  deified  such  a product  of  telluric  fecundity,  and  the 
druids  of  Gaul  and  Britain  would  have  held  it  in  greater  veneration  than 
either  the  oak  or  the  mistletoe.  The  Sumaumeira  is  remarkable  for  being  one 
of  the  few  Amazonian  trees  that  periodically  shed  their  leaves. 

465 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


during  the  wild  carnival  of  the  sovereign  of  rivers,  he  had 
entrusted  to  the  keeping  of  mother  earth. 

A fact  that  cannot  fail  to  impress  one  who  travels  from 
the  source  to  the  mouth  of  the  Amazon  is  the  number  of 
names  it  bears.  As  it  emerges  from  its  birthplace,  Lauri- 
cocha,1  in  the  lofty  fastnesses  of  the  Cordilleras  of  Peru, 
it  is  known  as  the  Tunguragua.  But  after  coursing  a short 
distance  through  the  deep  ravines  of  the  Andean  plateau, 
it  receives  the  name  Maranon,  which  it  retains  until  after 
it  issues  from  the  stupendous  Pongo  de  Manseriche. 
Somewhere  below  this  point,  some  say  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Huallaga,  others  at  the  embouchure  of  Ucayali,  the  name 
Maranon  is  replaced  by  that  of  the  Amazon,  by  which  the 
great  river  is  known,  at  least  by  the  Spaniards,  until  it 
enters  the  Atlantic.  The  Brazilians  and  Portuguese  add 
to  the  confusion  of  names  by  calling  the  section  of  the  river 
between  the  Peruvian  frontier  and  the  mouth  of  the  Rio 
Negro  the  Solimoes,  from  a tribe  of  Indians  who  formerly 
occupied  its  banks  in  this  part  of  its  course. 

But  numerous  and  conflicting  as  are  the  present  designa- 
tions of  the  river,  they  are  unimportant  in  comparison  with 
the  diversity  of  names  it  bore  in  the  early  part  of  the  six- 
teenth century.  Then  it  was  variously  known  as  Rio 
Grande,  the  Rio  Grande  del  Agua  Dulce  and  the  Sea  of  the 
Rio  Grande.  The  famous  pilot,  Juan  de  la  Cosa,  in  his 
mapamundi  of  1501,  calls  the  embouchure  of  the  river  by 

1 Raimondi,  contrary  to  the  opinion  of  most  geographers,  contends  that  the 
source  of  the  Rio  de  la  Nupe  is  the  true  fountain  head  of  the  Amazon.  As 
this  work  is  going  through  the  press  it  is  announced  that  Dr.  Wilhelm 
Sievers,  a noted  explorer  in  and  authority  on  South  American  geography,  has 
finally  located  the  fountain-head  of  the  Amazon  in  a snow  mountain  called 
San  Lorenzo,  about  one  hundred  miles  southwest  of  Lauricocha.  “Here  the 
waters  from  some  glacier  fronts  are  gathered  into  a stream  that  forms  the 
little  Lake  Caballo  Coca  15,580  feet  above  the  sea.  Out  of  this  lake  flows  the 
pure  blue  water  that  forms  the  most  important  source  of  the  Maranon.  It 
is  farther  from  the  sea  than  any  other  water  that  joins  the  Amazon,  and 
according  to  common  usage  among  geographers  the  little  stream  among  the 
snows  of  San  Lorenzo  is  entitled  to  the  distinction  of  being  the  ultimate 
source  of  the  Amazon.” 


466 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  AMAZON 


the  simple  but  expressive  name,  Mar  Dulce — Freshwater 
Sea.  In  his  capitulation  with  Vicente  Yanes  Pinzon  in 
1501,  King  Ferdinand  gave  the  newly-discovered  river 
the  epithet  of  Santa  Maria  de  la  Mar  Dulce.  For  a while 
the  great  water-course  was  called  the  Orellana,  in  honor 
of  the  daring  lieutenant  of  Gonzalo  Pizarro,  who  first  de- 
scended it  from  the  Andes  to  the  ocean.  Orellana  himself 
called  it  Rio  de  la  Trinidad,  and  until  the  end  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  the  part,  now  known  as  the  Maranon,  was 
regarded  as  an  affluent  of  the  Napo,  which  originally  bore 
the  name  of  Rio  Grande  de  Santa  Ana.  Nearly  a century 
after  Orellana’s  exploit,  two  Franciscan  monks,  Fray 
Domingo  de  Brieva  and  Fray  Andres  de  Toledo,  starting 
from  Quito,  followed  in  the  wake  of  the  intrepid  conquista- 
dor, and,  in  consequence  of  this,  the  Portuguese  for  some 
years  subsequently  called  the  river  Rio  San  Francisco  de 
Quito.1 

I shall  not  weary  the  reader  about  the  origin  of  the  name 
Maranon,  which  has  been  a matter  of  controversy  for 
nearly  four  centuries.  Whether  it  be  derived  from  a navi- 
gator called  Maranon  who,  according  to  Zarate,  was  the 
first  to  explore  the  river,  or  from  a tree  which  abounds 
on  its  banks  and  is  known  in  Cuba  as  maranon — Ana- 
cardium  occidentale — or  whether,  as  Rodriguez  will  have  it, 
the  name  was  given  by  soldiers  who  deserted  the  band  of  the 
traitor,  Lope  de  Aguirre,2  cannot  now  be  determined. 

Far  more  important  than  the  attempt  to  get  some  clew 

1 Fray  Laureano  de  la  Cruz  evidently  thought  this  the  most  proper  name 
for  the  river  which  he  and  his  brothers  in  religion  had  explored,  for  in  his 
'Nuevo  Descubrimiento  del  Rio  de  Maranon  llamado  de  las  Amazonas,  p.  62, 
Madrid,  1890,  he  does  not  hesitate  to  declare,  “Y  ya  de  aqui  adelante  no  le 
hemos  de  nombrar  de  otra  manera,  pues  tan  justamente,  le  conviene  el  nombrt 
de  Rio  San  Francisco.” 

2 “Los  soldados,  que  se  le  apartaron,  padecieron  tales  desdichas,  confusiones  y 
trabajos,  assi  al  baxar  en  su  compania  como  al  subir  bolviendose  azia  el 
Peru,  que  & vista  de  ellos,  y de  los  enredos,  y maranas  que  andando  por 
aquel  rio,  y sus  bueltas,  le  llamaron  Rio  de  MaraSas,  y por  significarlas 
grandes,  pass6  fi  llamarse,  Maranon.”  El  Maranon  y Amazonas,  p.  19, 
Madrid,  1684. 


467 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

to  the  origin  of  this  mysterious  name  would  be  a concerted 
effort  on  the  part  of  the  geographers  of  the  world  to  elimi- 
nate the  confusion  that  has  so  long  prevailed  about  the  ap- 
pellation of  the  greatest  of  rivers,  and  agree  on  one  name 
— Maranon  or  Amazon — by  which  it  would  hereafter  be 
known  in  all  languages  from  its  source  to  its  mouth.  To 
avoid  ambiguity,  I shall,  in  what  follows,  call  it  by  what  is 
now  its  most  common  and  certainly  its  most  romantic  name 
— the  Amazon. 

My  emotion  on  first  contemplating  the  immense  expanse 
of  the  Amazon,  after  we  had  left  its  great  affluent,  the 
Huallaga,  was  enhanced  by  the  books  I had  been  reading 
for  some  days  previously.  Among  these  was  the  rather 
rare  work  of  Rodriguez,  just  mentioned,  which  I had  been 
fortunate  enough  to  find,  some  weeks  before,  in  the  library 
of  the  recently-deceased  bishop  of  Chachapoyas.  Nothing 
could  have  been  more  grateful  to  me  than  this  unexpected 
find  at  this  particular  time,  for  I had  tried  in  vain  to  secure 
a copy  of  this  eagerly-desired  work  in  Lima,  Cuzco,  Are- 
quipa  and  elsewhere.  Then,  too,  I had  been  reading  about 
the  noble  achievements  of  the  conquistadores  of  the  cross 
in  the  valleys  of  the  Huallaga  and  the  Amazon,  and  of  that 
New  Paraguay  which  had  been  established  in  this  region 
with  its  first  headquarters  at  San  Borja,  near  the  Pongo  de 
Manseriche. 

Wherever  I went  I was  reminded  of  heroic  deeds  by  sol- 
dier and  missionary,  and  felt  that  I was  in  very  truth  in 
a region  of  romance  and  enchantment.  Few  parts,  indeed, 
of  South  America  have  been  the  theater  of  more  notable 
achievements  in  many  spheres  of  endeavor,  than  the  region 
which  centers  at  the  confluence  of  the  Huallaga  and  the 
Amazon.  There  are  few  whose  story  is  more  stirring  or 
thrilling,  or  more  replete  with  moving  incidents  of  explora- 
tion and  conquest;  few  that  have  witnessed  such  a succes- 
sion of  striking  characters  move  across  the  stage  of  its 
fascinating  drama. 

That  chivalrous,  but  ill-starred  conquistador,  Pedro  de 

468 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  AMAZON 


Orsua,  sailed  down  the  waters  of  the  Huallaga  after  his 
eventful  march  across  the  Andes  from  Trujillo,  on  his 
famous  expedition  in  search  of  Omagua  and  El  Dorado.  It 
was  near  this  spot  that  his  treacherous  lieutenant,  Lope  de 
Aguirre,  began  that  conspiracy  which  ultimately  compassed 
the  death  of  his  chief.  There  is  a monument  to  the  mem- 
ory of  this  blood-thirsty  villain  near  Chasuta,  a village  on 
the  Huallaga,  above  Yurimaguas,  in  the  shape  of  a lofty 
cliff  which  dominates  the  rapids  of  the  river  at  this 
point.  It  is  known  as  El  Salto  de  Aguirre — The  Leap  of 
Aguirre. 

Further  down  the  Amazon,  in  the  dark  recesses  of  the 
forest,  there  was  once  another  monument  to  this  monster 
of  cruelty  and  perfidy.  It  was  in  the  form  of  a little  mound 
of  earth,  but  it  has  long  since  disappeared.  It  covered  the 
mortal  remains  of  the  beautiful  Ines  de  Atienza — who  was 
done  to  death  by  the  traitor  Aguirre— the  valiant  and  faith- 
ful fiancee  of  Pedro  de  Orsua,  who  insisted  on  accompany- 
ing him  on  this  fateful  expedition,  and  who,  as  an  old 
chronicler  writes,  “forsook  not  her  lord  in  his  travels  even 
unto  death.” 

The  atrocity  of  this  bloody  deed  is  commented  on  by  the 
poet-historian,  Juan  de  Castellanos,  as  follows: 

‘ ‘ The  birds  mourned  on  the  trees ; 

The  wild  beasts  of  the  forest  lamented ; 

The  waters  ceased  to  murmur ; 

The  fishes  beneath  the  waters  wailed ; 

The  winds  execrated  the  deed 

When  Llamso  cut  the  veins  of  her  white  neck. 

Wretch!  wert  thou  bora  of  woman? 

No ! what  beast  could  have  such  a wicked  son  ? 

How  was  it  that  thou  didst  not  die 
In  imagining  a treason  so  enormous? 

Her  two  women,  ’midst  lamentation  and  grief, 
Gathered  flowers  to  cover  her  grave, 

And  cut  her  epitaph  in  the  bark  of  a tree — - 
‘These  flowers  cover  one  whose  faithfulness 


469 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


And  beauty  were  unequalled, 

Whom  cruel  men  slew  without  a cause.  ’ ” 1 

In  1538  the  upper  Amazon  was  explored  by  Alonzo  de 
Mercadillo  as  far  as  the  Pongo  de  Manseriche.  M.  Jimenez 
de  la  Espada  says  he  descended  the  river  to  the  mouth  of 
the  Rio  Negro,  while  about  the  same  time  the  territory 
between  the  Amazon  and  the  Huallaga  was  the  witness  of 
the  hardships  and  the  exploits  of  Alonzo  de  Alvarado,  one 
of  the  most  generous  and  humane  of  the  conquistadores. 
He,  if  not  Mercadillo,  was  probably  the  discoverer  of  the 
Huallaga,  hut  his  greatest  title  to  fame  was  his  benevolent 
dealings  with  the  Indians.  His  conduct  in  this  respect  was 
certainly  in  marked  contrast  with  that  of  some  of  the  other 
conquistadores.  On  his  way  from  Trujillo  to  Moyobamba, 
he  went  unarmed,  and  almost  alone,  everywhere  winning  the 
hearts  of  the  natives  by  his  extraordinary  affability  and 
kindness.  If  all  his  countrymen  had  been  of  his  stamp, 
the  conquest  of  the  New  World  would  have  been  achieved 
by  love  and  not  at  the  cost  of  blood  and  tears. 

But  the  name  that  looms  largest  in  this  part  of  South 
America  and  the  one  which  has  shed  undying  luster  on  the 
Spanish  name,  is  that  of  Francisco  de  Orellana,  the  im- 
mortal discoverer  and  explorer  of  the  river  which  should 
still,  as  it  did  formerly,  bear  his  name.  And  yet,  para- 
doxical as  it  may  seem,  it  is  less  than  two  decades  since 
the  true  story  of  this  memorable  expedition  was  published. 
For  nearly  four  centuries  Orellana,  in  spite  of  his  marvel- 
ous achievements,  had  been  under  a cloud.  He  had  been 

i Castellanos,  Elegias  de  Varones  Ilustres,  Elegia  XIV,  Canto  IV.  The 
full  text  of  the  epitaph,  according  to  Castellanos,  was 

“Conditur  his  lauris  praefulgens  forma  puellae, 

Quam  tulit  insontem  sanguinolenta  manus, 

“Gloria  sylvarum  est  extinctum  cinere  corpus, 

Ast  homini  vivens  displicuit  facies.” 

According  to  Padre  Simon,  Orsua  took  his  betrothed  to  Moyobamba  with 
the  intention  of  marrying  her,  and  there  is  no  evidence  that  he  did  not  make 
her  his  lawful  wife. 


470 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  AMAZON 


denounced  as  a traitor  to  his  chief,  Gonzalo  Pizarro,  and 
as  one  who  sacrificed  others  to  his  own  ambition  and  desire 
for  glory.  Even  the  chronicler  of  the  expedition  was  for- 
gotten, and  his  precious  narrative  was  practically  unknown 
until  the  closing  years  of  the  nineteenth  century.  It  is  true 
that  most  of  it  is  embodied  in  Oviedo’s  Historia  General  y 
Natural  de  las  Indias,  but  this  monumental  work,  although 
written  in  the  early  days  of  the  conquest,  was  not  published 
until  1851.  Even  Prescott  was  ignorant  of  its  existence, 
and  he,  like  other  modern  writers,1  was  content  to  follow 
Zarate  and  Garcilaso  de  la  Vega,  who,  receiving  their  in- 
formation from  the  followers  of  Gonzalo  Pizarro,  painted 
Orellana  as  a deserter  and  a traitor.  Zarate  even  goes  so 
far  as  to  declare  that  the  one  who  was  the  real  chronicler 
of  Orellana’s  expedition  was,  for  some  fancied  act  of  in- 
subordination, abandoned  in  the  inhospitable  forest  border- 
ing the  Napo  without  food  or  arms,  where  certain  death 
awaited  him  from  starvation  or  from  savage  beasts  and 
hostile  natives.2 

But  who  was  the  mysterious,  long-forgotten  chronicler  of 
Orellana’s  wonderful  voyage  of  exploration? 

He  was  Fray  Gaspar  de  Carvajal,  a Dominican  monk 
and  a countryman  of  Gonzalo  Pizarro,  who  accompanied 
his  famous  brother  in  religion,  Vicente  Valverde,  to  Peru 
after  he  was  made  bishop  of  Cuzco.  He  was  also  the 
founder  of  his  order  in  Peru,  and,  like  his  noble  confrere, 
Las  Casas,  a strenuous  protector  of  the  Indians. 

1 Among  them  Clements  R.  Markham,  who,  in  the  work  Expeditions  into 
the  Valley  of  the  Amazons,  published  for  the  Hakluyt  Society  in  1859,  eight 
years  after  the  publication  of  Oviedo’s  history,  makes  no  mention  of  the 
first  account  of  the  Amazon  given  by  Orellana’s  annalist.  He,  like  his 
predecessors,  relies  chiefly  on  Garcilaso,  Herrera  and  Acuna,  and  the  greater 
part  of  his  work  consists  merely  of  translations  from  these  writers. 

2 It  is  passing  strange,  a third  of  a century  after  the  true  facts  were 
published,  to  see  this  story  still  repeated  by  a Brazilian  author,  F.  J.  de 
Santa-Anna  Nery,  in  a work  that  deals  with  the  Amazon  ex  professo.  “II 
les  jette,”  he  writes  of  Orellana’s  abandonment  of  Carvajal  and  Sanchez  de 
Vargas,  “sur  le  premier  rivage  venu  sans  armes,  sans  provisions,  en  pleine 
forgt  vierge.”  Le  Pays  des  Amazones,  p.  6,  Paris,  1885. 


471 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


AVlien  Gouzalo  JPizarro  left  Quito  for  the  Land  of  Cin- 
namon, Carvajal,  accompanied  by  Fray  Gonzalo  de  Vera, 
of  the  Order  of  Mercy,  went  with  him  as  the  chaplain  of 
the  expedition.  And  when  Pizarro  sent  his  lieutenant  down 
the  Napo  in  search  of  provisions,  these  two  monks  were 
with  those  who  went  with  Orellana.  It  thus  happened  that 
Carvajal  was  one  of  the  intrepid  band  of  fifty-seven  who 
immortalized  themselves  by  what  Oviedo  justly  character- 
izes as  “una  de  las  mayores  cosas  que  han  acontecido  d 
hombres — one  of  the  greatest  things  which  have  happened 
to  men.” 

But  Carvajal  was  more  than  the  chaplain  of  the  expedi- 
tion. He  was  also  its  chronicler.  His  narrative  did  not, 
however,  find  an  editor  until  1894,  when  Sr.  D.  Jose  Toribio 
Medina  gave  us  the  charming  and  scholarly  Descubrimiento 
del  Rio  de  las  Amazonas  segun  la  Relacion  hasta  aliora 
inedita  de  Fr.  Gaspar  de  Carvajal.1 

The  day  before  my  departure  from  Lima,  while  rum- 
maging through  a second-hand  hook  store,  I was  fortunate 
enough  to  find  a copy  of  this  valuable  work.  I postponed 
reading  it  until  I got  on  the  steamer  at  Yurimaguas  and 
was  within  sight  of  the  Amazon,  the  mute  witness  of  some 

i Published  in  Seville,  pp.  CCXXXIX,  278.  The  full  title  of  Carvajal’s 
MS.  is  Relacion  que  dscribio  Fr.  Gaspar  de  Carvajal,  fraile  de  la  Orden  de 
Santo  Domingo  de  Guzman,  del  nuevo  descubrimiento  del  famoso  rio  grande 
que  descubrio  por  ventura  el  Capitan  Francisco  de  Orellana  desde  su 
nacimiento  hasta  salir  d la  mar,  con  cincuenta  y siete  hombres  que  trajo 
consigo  y se  echd  d su  aventura  por  el  dicho  rio,  y por  el  nombre  del  capitan 
que  le  descubrio  se  llamd  el  Rio  de  Orellana. 

As  an  evidence  of  how  soon  the  truth  regarding  the  discovery  of  the 
Amazon  and  the  part  Padre  Carvajal  had  in  it  passed  into  oblivion,  it 
suffices  to  state  that  the  Dominican  Melendez,  in  his  Historia  de  la  Provih- 
cia  peruana  de  San  Juan  Bautista,  published  in  1681,  declares  that  the  per- 
jured rebel,  Orellana,  cast  Padre  Carvajal  ashore,  that  he  might  perish 
there,  because  he  had  opposed  his  treason  against  Gonzalo  Pizarro  and 
had  preached  against  it.  If  the  historian  of  his  own  order  could  be  guilty 
of  such  an  egregious  blunder  regarding  one  of  its  most  distinguished  mem- 
bers, and  that  so  soon  after  the  great  event  in  question,  it  is  conceivable 
how  succeeding  writers  should  have  lapsed  into  an  error  that  has  found  ac- 
ceptance for  nearly  four  centuries. 


472 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  AMAZON 


of  the  most  heroic  exploits  in  the  annals  of  discovery.  I 
was  glad  I did  so,  for  never  did  the  perusal  of  any  book 
afford  me  more  exquisite  pleasure  than  did  that  of  the 
simple  narrative  of  Carvajal’s  Descubrimiento.  Reading 
it  on  the  waters  of  the  great  river,  while  passing  under  the 
shadow  of  forest  giants  that  may  have  sheltered  the  daring 
crew  in  one  of  their  bivouacs  ashore,  was  like  being  trans- 
ported back  nearly  four  centuries,  and  made  a spectator 
of  the  memorable  events  so  graphically  described  by  the 
observant  Dominican. 

In  the  light  of  his  vivid  descriptions,  one  could  see  the 
resourceful,  self-reliant  Spaniard  building  from  the  green 
wood  of  the  forest  the  frail  brigantines — the  San  Pedro 
and  the  Victoria — that  were  to  convey  them  in  their  long 
voyage  on  an  unknown  and  unexplored  river.  One  could 
watch  them,  ignorant  of  everything  except  the  profession 
of  arms,  improvising  a rude  forge,  making  nails  from 
chains  and  the  shoes  of  the  horses  that  had  died  or  been 
killed  for  food,  and  using  grass  for  rigging  and  their  cloaks 
for  sails. 

At  one  time  they  were  on  the  verge  of  starvation,  and 
had  nothing  to  eat  except  their  leather  belts  and  shoe-soles 
cooked  with  certain  herbs.  At  another  their  lives  were 
threatened  by  the  impetuosity  of  the  river  currents  and  the 
frequent  whirlpools  which  they  encountered.  But  their 
greatest  peril,  one  against  which  they  had  continually  to 
be  on  guard,  was  that  from  the  countless  tribes  of  savages 
who  inhabited  the  banks  of  the  river. 

According  to  Carvajal’s  account,  the  Indians  were  then 
incomparably  more  numerous  than  they  are  at  present,  for 
the  voyagers  sometimes  saw  as  many  as  twenty  pueblos  in 
a single  day,  and  many  of  these  were  several  leagues  in 
length,  and  contained  thousands  of  armed  warriors.  Some 
of  the  tribes,  it  is  true,  were  friendly  to  the  strangers  and 
these  supplied  them  with  provisions,  but  others  were  hos- 
tile and  assailed  the  Spaniards  with  showers  of  poisoned 
arrows  which  gave  to  their  brigantines  the  appearance 

473 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

of  porcupines — que  parecian  nuestros  bergantines  puerco 
espin. 

Finally,  however,  after  untold  hardships  and  dangers; 
after  almost  two  years  of  unparalleled  adventure  and  prow- 
ess; after  sailing  through  pielagos  de  immensidades — 
oceans  of  immensity — for  more  than  a thousand  leagues  1 
down  an  unknown  river,  without  pilot,  chart  or  compass; 
knowing  not  whither  they  were  going  or  where  their  voyage 
would  terminate,  these  dauntless  sons  of  Spain,  true  to  the 
best  traditions  of  El  Cid  Campecidor,  found  their  way  to 
the  island  of  Cubagua — the  present  Margarita — where  they 
were  acclaimed  by  their  astonished  countrymen  as  heroes 
of  one  of  the  most  stupendous  undertakings  recorded  in 
history.2 

But  remarkable  and  romantic  as  was  the  expedition  of 
Orellana,  that  of  Orsua,  of  which  mention  has  already  been 
made,  was  scarcely  less  so.  It  was  in  1559,  scarcely  twenty 
years  after  Orellana  started  to  unravel  the  mystery  of  the 
Amazon,  or  die  in  the  attempt,3  that  the  dashing  young 
knight  of  Navarre  was  authorized  by  the  Marquis  de 
Canete,  the  viceroy  of  Peru,  to  lead  an  expedition  in  search 
of  Omagua  and  El  Dorado.  The  account  of  this  expedi- 
tion, authentic  as  it  is,  seems  more  like  one  of  the  cycle  of 

1 Carvajal  estimates  the  distance  traversed  on  the  river  at  eighteen  hun- 
dred leagues.  “Se  montan  la  leaguas  que  hemos  andado  por  este  rio  desde 
done  salimos  hasta  la  mar  mil  y ochenta  leguas,  antes  mas  que  menos!” 
p.  76. 

2 This  is  not  the  place  to  discuss  the  alleged  disloyalty  of  Orellana 
to  his  chief,  Gonzalo  Pizarro.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  with  all  the  docu- 
ments before  him,  including  the  series  of  articles  published  by  Jimenez 
de  la  Espada  in  La  Ilustracion  Espanola  y Americana  in  1892  and  1894, 
entitled  Traicion  de  un  Tuerto — a strong  indictment  against  Orellana — 
Don  Jos6  Toribio  Medina,  in  his  masterly  introduction  to  Padre  Carvajal’s 
Relacion,  after  a thorough  examination  of  all  the  facts  in  the  case,  does 
not  hesitate,  in  opposition  to  all  preceding  writers  on  the  subject,  to  make 
the  categorical  statement,  Orellana  no  fue  traidor — Orellana  was  not  a trai- 
tor. And  the  verdict  of  most,  if  not  all  of  Medina’s  readers,  will,  I think,  be 
that  the  one-eyed  discoverer  of  the  Amazon  was  not  guilty  of  the  charge  of 
which  he  has  so  long  been  accused. 

3 Seguir  el  rio  6 morir  6 ver  lo  que  en  61  habia.  Carvajal,  op.  cit.,  p.  8. 

474 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  AMAZON 


Arthurian  romances  than  a sober  narrative  of  fact. 
“Never  since  the  civil  wars  in  Peru,”  writes  an  early 
chronicler,  referring  to  Orsua ’s  expedition,  “have  such 
wonderful  things  happened,  as  in  this  affair  of  the  river 
Amazon.” 

What,  however,  was  romance  at  the  setting  out  of  the 
expedition,  became,  with  the  death  of  Orsua  at  the  hands 
of  the  tyrant  Lope  de  Aguirre,  a series  of  tragedies  with- 
out parallel  in  the  annals  of  the  conquest.  “The  career 
of  Aguirre,”  Markham  well  observes,  “is  certainly  the 
most  marvelous  and  extraordinary  in  the  history  of  South 
American  discovery,  during  that  age  of  wonders  [the  six- 
teenth century],  and  in  the  expedition,  as  it  was  conducted 
after  Pedro  de  Orsua ’s  tragic  death,  all  that  is  wildest, 
most  romantic,  most  desperate,  most  appalling  in  the  an- 
nals of  Spanish  enterprise  seems  to  culminate  in  one  wild 
orgy  of  madness  and  blood.” 

It  is  beside  my  purpose  to  detain  the  reader  by  a recital 
of  the  events  of  this  extraordinary  expedition,  which  was 
terminated  by  the  sanguinary  death  “of  the  mad  demon, 
Lope  de  Aguirre.”  Those  who  are  interested  in  the  sub- 
ject will  find  a full  account  of  it  in  the  Elegias  de  Ilustres 
Varones  de  Indias,  by  Juan  de  Castellanos;  in  the  Noticias 
Historiales  of  Padre  Simon,  and,  above  all,  in  the  recently 
published  narrative  from  which  these  two  writers  derived 
their  information,  the  Relation  de  Todo  lo  que  Sucedio  en 
la  Jornada  de  Omagua  y Dorado,  written  by  the  Bachiller 
Francisco  Vazquez,  who  was  a member  of  the  expedition.1 

I cannot,  however,  pass  over  one  feature  of  Aguirre’s 
expedition  that  has  always  claimed  the  interest  of  geogra- 
phers, and  which  is  still  a matter  of  controversy.  How  did 

1 This  precious  document  remained  in  MS.  until  1881,  when  it  was  pub- 
lished in  Madrid  by  the  Marquis  de  la  Fuensanta  del  Valle.  The  English 
reader  may  refer  with  profit  to  the  Expedition  of  Orsua,  and  the  Crimes  of 
Aguirre,  by  Robert  Southey,  Philadelphia,  1851,  and  the  Expedition  of  Pedro 
de  Orsua  and  Lope  de  Aguirre  in  Search  of  El  Dorado  and  Omagua,  trans- 
lated from  Padre  Simon  by  W.  Bollaert,  for  the  Hakluyt  Society,  London, 
1861. 


475 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


the  traitor  and  his  Maranones — the  name  given  his  follow- 
ers— reach  the  Atlantic?  Was  it  by  way  of  the  Amazon 
or  of  the  Orinoco? 

The  distinguished  savant,  La  Condamine,  who  took  so 
conspicuous  a part  in  measuring  a part  of  the  earth’s 
meridian  on  the  Equatorian  plateau,  and  who  voyaged  down 
the  Amazon  in  1743,  when  he  made  the  first  map  of  the 
river  based  on  accurate  observations,  leaves  the  matter  in 
doubt.  Southey  and  Humboldt  are  of  opinion  that  the 
ocean  was  reached  by  way  of  the  Amazon,  while  Acuna  in- 
clines to  the  belief  that  it  was  by  the  Rio  Felipe — Oyapoc 
— or  possibly  by  the  Essequibo. 

Padre  Simon  and  Benito  Acosta,  the  pilot  of  Captain 
Pedro  Texeira,  contend  that  the  voyagers  entered  the  At- 
lantic by  the  Orinoco.  This  is  already  shown  in  the  map 
of  Sanson  d’  Abbeville,  published  in  1656,  from  informa- 
tion furnished  by  the  Portuguese  pilot.1  If  the  latter  view 
be  correct,  Aguirre  and  his  companions  were  the  first  white 
men  to  discover  that  wonderful  river — the  Cassiquiare — 
which  connects  the  Amazon  and  the  Orinoco,  and  which 
makes  the  hydrographic  system  formed  by  these  two 
rivers  the  most  remarkable  in  existence.  Such  an  achieve- 
ment, if  proved  to  have  been  a reality,  would  immediately 
take  rank  with  Orellana’s  astonishing  voyage  down  the 
Amazon. 

To  one  who  is  familiar  with  the  courses  of  the  Orinoco 
and  the  Amazon,  and  who  reads  carefully  the  accounts  that 
have  been  written  about  Aguirre’s  expedition,  especially 
the  very  circumstantial  Relation  of  Vazquez,  it  seems  al- 
most certain  that  the  expedition  picked  its  way  through  the 
tortuous  Cassiquiare,  and  finally  attained  the  Atlantic  after 
threading  the  mazes  of  the  Orinoco  delta. 

i Acuna,  contrary  to  the  indication  in  the  map  which  accompanies  The 
Expedition  of  Pedro  de  Orsua  and  Lope  de  Aguirre  in  Search  of  El  Dorado 
and  Omagua,  published  by  the  Hakluyt  Society,  declares  categorically  that 
in  no  way — de  ninguna  manera — did  Aguirre  enter  the  ocean  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Orinoco.  Nuevo  Descubrimiento  del  Gram.  Rio  de  las  Amazonas, 
Num.  IXV. 


476 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  AMAZON 


If  this  fact  should  ever  be  substantiated,  the  conclusion 
would  at  once  follow  that  Aguirre  passed  through  the 
Cassiquiare  nearly  two  centuries  before  it  was  traversed 
by  the  Portuguese  in  1743,  or  by  the  Spanish  Commission 
which,  in  1756,  was  delegated  to  settle  the  boundary  line 
between  Brazil  and  Venezuela.1 

While  the  expeditions  of  Orellana  and  Aguirre  were,  in- 
deed, remarkable  and  deserving  of  all  the  encomiums  that 
historians  have  bestowed  upon  them,  they  were,  in  a way, 
both  eclipsed  by  the  third  voyage  that  was  made  down  the 
Amazon.  This  was  in  1636,  and  is  known  in  the  annals  of 
discovery  as  El  Viaje  de  los  Legos  Franciscanos — The 
Voyage  of  the  Franciscan  Lay-brothers.  Marcos  Jimenez 
de  la  Espada  truly  characterizes  it  as  “ La  aventura  geo - 
grafica  mas  temeraria  que  hombres  han  arrastrado  en  las 
aguas  del  Amazonas ” — “The  most  daring  geographical 
enterprise  which  men  have  ever  adventured  on  the  waters 
of  the  Amazon.”  2 

The  expeditions  of  Orellana  and  Aguirre  were  under- 
taken only  after  long  and  careful  preparation,  whereas  the 
two  Franciscans,  Fray  Domingo  de  Brieva  and  Fray 
Andres  de  Toledo,  started  on  their  extraordinary  voyage 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and  without  supplies  of  any 
kind.  Accompanied  by  only  six  Spanish  soldiers  and  two 
Indians,  they  entered  a dugout  and  began  the  long  and  peril- 
ous voyage  from  the  eastern  confines  of  Quito  to  the  ocean. 
Three  months  later  they  appeared,  as  if  by  enchantment, 
before  the  town  of  Curupa  on  the  lower  Amazon,  and 
shortly  afterwards  they  were  telling  the  story  of  their 
amazing  adventure  to  the  astonished  inhabitants  of  Para. 
That  they  should  have  made  this  long  voyage  of  more  than 
twelve  hundred  leagues  in  a small  canoe,  with  only  such 
provisions  as  they  could  find  in  the  forest,  or  procure  from 

1 Compare,  however,  footnote  on  pages  110  and  111  of  Expedition  of  Pedro 
de  Orsua  and  Lope  de  Aguirre,  above  mentioned. 

2 Viaje  del  Capitan  Pedro  Texeira  Aguas  arriba  del  Rio  de  las  Amazonas, 
p.  30,  Madrid,  1889. 


477 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


the  Indians  along  the  river,  was  indeed  astounding,  hut 
what  seemed  almost  incredible  to  their  hearers  was  their 
statement  that  they  never  had  any  mishap  of  any  kind,  and 
that,  notwithstanding  the  immense  number  of  savages  that 
inhabited  the  banks  of  the  Amazon,  they  slept  every  night 
on  shore  as  securely  as  if  they  had  been  at  home  in  their 
own  convents.1 

Although  nothing  could  have  been  less  ostentatious  than 
this  expedition  of  the  two  friars,  it  was  destined  to  be  far 
more  prolific  in  results  than  either  of  the  two  that  pre- 
ceded it. 

Orellana,  it  is  true,  had  visions  of  a great  future  for  the 
Amazonian  province  of  New  Andalusia,  of  which  he  was 
made  governor  as  a reward  for  his  services  to  the  Spanish 
crown;  but  his  dreams  were  never  realized,  for  he  had 
scarcely  returned  to  the  mouth  of  the  Amazon  when  he 
sickened  and  died.  His  companions  buried  him  under  one 
of  the  age-old  trees  of  the  ever-green  forest  which  is  bathed 
by  the  waters  of  the  majestic  river  which  he  had  discovered, 
and  there,  after  the  labors  and  hardships  of  a strenuous 
life,  he  found  repose  in  the  midst  of  that  exuberant  nature 
which  is  a fitting  monument  to  his  undying  memory. 

Aguirre,  after  his  memorable  expedition  across  the  conti- 
nent, was  deserted  by  all  his  band  except  one,  and  met  death 
at  the  hands  of  two  of  his  Maranones  near  Barquicimeto 
in  Venezuela,  not,  however,  until  after  he  had  crowned  his 
countless  atrocities  by  imbruing  his  hands  in  the  blood  of 
his  own  daughter,  who  had  accompanied  him  from  Peru 
with  a Spanish  woman  named  Torralva.2  Before  thrust- 
ing the  fatal  poniard  into  her  heart  he  said  to  her,  “Com- 
mend thyself  to  God,  my  daughter,  for  I am  about  to  kill 

1 “Hicieron  su  viaje  durmiendo  todas  las  noches  en  tierra  tan  seguros 
como  si  estuvieran  en  sus  conventos  sin  sucederles  cosa  adversa,  sino  todas 
prosperas,  toda's  feliees.”  Fray  Diego  de  Cordoba  y Salinas,  Cronica  de  la 
religiosisima  provincia  de  los  doce  Apostolos  del  Peru,  Cap.  32-34,  Lima,  1651. 

2 This  Torralva,  from  Molina  de  Aragon  in  Castille,  was,  so  far  as  known, 
the  first  white  woman  to  cross  the  South  American  continent  by  way  of  the 
Amazon.  Aguirre’s  daughter  was  a mestiza. 

478 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  AMAZON 


thee,  that  thou  mayest  not  be  pointed  at  with  scorn,  nor  be 
in  the  power  of  anyone  who  may  call  thee  the  daughter  of 
a traitor.  ’ ’ 1 Aguirre ’s  ‘ ‘ memory  survives  until  the  present 
time  in  Venezuela  as  that  of  an  evil  spirit,  and  when  at 
night  the  jack-o’-lanterns  dance  over  the  marshy  plains, 
the  solitary  wanderer  crosses  himself — whispers,  ‘ The  soul 
of  the  Tyrant  Aguirre.’  ” 

Eighty  years  elapsed  after  the  voyage  of  Aguirre,  and  a 
full  century  after  that  of  Orellana,  and  during  this  long 
interval  nothing  further  was  accomplished  in  the  valley 
of  the  Amazon  in  the  way  of  exploration  or  conquest. 
Scarcely,  however,  had  the  two  monks  arrived  at  Para  from 
the  region  of  the  Napo  when  preparations  were  immedi- 
ately begun  for  an  expedition  up  the  river  on  an  imposing 
scale,  by  the  then  governor  of  the  lower  Amazon.  A fleet 
of  forty  large  canoes,  manned  by  twelve  hundred  Indian 
oarsmen,  and  carrying  seventy  Portuguese  and  four  of  the 
six  Spaniards,  who  had  descended  the  river  with  the  two 
friars,  departed  under  the  command  of  Captain  Pedro 
Texeira,  who  took  with  him  a Franciscan  monk,  Fray  Au- 
gustin de  las  Llagas,  as  his  chaplain,  and  the  lay  brother, 
Fray  Domingo  Brieva,  who  was  to  serve  as  the  guide — 
Guia  y norte  de  la  armada — up  the  river  which  he  had  so 
recently  descended. 

The  expedition  left  Curupa  the  17th  of  October,  1638, 
and,  after  nearly  eight  months  of  navigation,  which  was 
always  prosperous,  and  attended  by  no  untoward  event 
whatever,  it  arrived  at  the  town  of  Avila,  but  a few  days’ 
journey  from  Quito.2 

Great  was  the  surprise  and  consternation  of  the  royal 
audience  of  Quito  and  of  the  viceroy  of  Lima,  when  they 
learned  of  the  unexpected  arrival  at  the  foot  of  the  Andes 
from  the  coast  of  Brazil,  of  the  Portuguese  armada.  It  is 

1 Fray  Pedro  Simon,  Noticias  Historiales  de  las  conquistias  de  Tierra  Firme, 
en  las  Indias  Occidentales,  Sexta  Noticia,  Cap.  II,  Bogota,  1882. 

2 “A1  cabo  de  ocho  meses  de  navegacion,  que  tuvieron  eon  feliz,  y prospera 
fortuna,  sin  sucederles  el  menor  fracaso,  6 desastre,  llegaron  al  deseado 
puerto  de  Payamino,”  Cordoba  y Salinas,  ut.  sup.,  p.  203. 

479 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


true  that  Portugal  was  then  under  the  dominion  of  Spain, 
and  had  been  for  more  than  half  a century,  but  there  were 
even  then  unmistakable  indications  of  that  rebellion  which 
very  soon  afterwards  resulted  in  Portuguese  independence. 
It  was  bad  enough  that  Texeira’s  voyage  should  open  up 
a new  road  to  Peru  for  English  and  Dutch  pirates  and 
buccaneers,  but  it  was  still  worse  for  Spain  to  have  her 
hated  rival,  Portugal,  in  control  of  the  great  waterway  of 
the  Amazon. 

The  worst  fears  of  audience  and  viceroy  were  soon  justi- 
fied, for  shortly  after  Texeira’s  return  to  Para,  which  was 
effected  without  delay,  Portugal  threw  off  the  Spanish  yoke, 
and  the  Portuguese  began  at  once  to  push  the  frontiers  of 
Brazil  towards  the  Andes,  and,  in  so  doing,  encountered 
little  more  resistance  than  what  was  offered  by  the  Spanish 
missionaries  of  the  upper  Amazon.  The  expedition  of  the 
two  Franciscans  from  the  Napo  to  Para  was  thus,  although 
indirectly,  productive  of  results  incomparably  more  mo- 
mentous than  those  following  the  voyages  of  Orellana  and 
Aguirre,  for  it  at  once  paved  the  way  for  that  vast  exten- 
sion of  territory  on  the  part  of  Portugal  which  eventually 
made  Brazil  the  largest  commonwealth  in  South  America. 

I have  said  nothing  about  the  return  of  Texeira  and  his 
men  from  Quito  to  Para,  for  that  has  been  fully  described 
by  many  chroniclers  who  have  written  on  the  subject,  nota- 
bly Fray  Laureano  de  la  Cruz,  and  the  Jesuit  Padre  Acuna, 
whose  work,  Nuevo  Descubrimiento  del  Gran  Rio  de  las 
Amazonas,  is  still  supposed  by  many  to  be  the  earliest  ac- 
count we  possess  of  the  Amazon  and  the  region  it  waters. 
How  ill-founded  is  such  an  opinion  is  shown  by  the  fore- 
going pages.  It  is  due,  therefore,  to  the  memory  of  the 
brave  and  neglected  Franciscan  lay-brother,  Domingo 
Brieva,  who  made  his  first  descent  of  the  Amazon  in  a dug- 
out,  and  who  acted  as  Texeira’s  guide  from  Para  to  Quito 
and  return — thus  traversing  the  great  river  from  end  to 
end  no  fewer  than  three  several  times — to  recall  the  nature 
and  the  importance  of  his  services  to  the  cause  of  geo- 

480 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  AMAZON 


graphical  exploration  and  discovery.  Few  contributed 
more  than  this  humble  monk  to  opening  up  the  valley  of  the 
Amazon  to  the  explorer,  the  colonist  and  the  missionary, 
and  few  have  been  so  completely  ignored. 

Acuna  passes  over  Fray  Domingo ’s  achievements  by  what 
Jimenez  de  la  Espada  justly  designates  silencio  muy  raro, 
but  a silence  that  the  curious  reader  will  find  explained  by 
the  illustrious  Americanist  in  his  masterly  introduction  to 
the  Viaje  del  Capitan  Texeira,  and  in  his  valuable  notes  on 
Noticias  Autenticas  del  Famoso  Rio  Amazon,  referred  to  in 
the  preceding  chapter.  He  will  also  find  much  light  on  the 
subject  in  the  simple  and  unaffected  narrative,  already 
mentioned,  of  Laureano  de  la  Cruz,  whose  work,  notwith- 
standing its  importance,  was  unknown  to  bibliographers 
until  1890  and  remained  unpublished  until  1900.1 

The  name  Amazon,  or  the  Amazons,  by  which  the  river 
discovered  by  Orellana  is  generally  known,  is,  as  the  reader 
is  aware,  derived  from  a tribe  of  female  warriors,  who, 
according  to  the  early  chroniclers,  inhabited  the  region  east 
of  the  Eio  Negro.  Orellana  is  usually  credited  with  invent- 
ing the  story  of  their  existence,  but  it  seems  with  little  foun- 
dation.2 Carvajal,  it  is  true,  tells  us  that  the  expedition 
found  Indian  women  aiding  the  men  in  their  attacks  on  the 
Spaniards,  but  this  is  quite  different  from  affirming  his 
belief  that  a tribe  of  women,  like  the  Amazons  described  by 
the  old  Greek  writers,  actually  existed  in  the  valley  of  the 

1 Speaking  of  this  silencio  muy  raro,  Jimdnez  de  la  Espada  observes : “Acaso 
dependa  de  involuntario  olvido,  pero  como  no  es  este  el  unico  que  el  P. 
Acuna  padece  en  los  asuntos  personales  de  fray  Domingo  y los  de  la  orden 
franciscana,  relativos  al  viaje  primero,  6 de  la  subida,  del  capitan  Texeira 
y aun  al  la  bajada,  que  hieieron  juntos  el  capitan  y Padre,  bueno  serS.  que 
sigamos  oyendo  d nuestro  fray  Laureano,  para  que  nos  entere  de  algunos 
curiosos  lances  occurridos  con  montivo  de  las  mencionadas  expediciones 
que  vienen  muy  al  proposito  de  estos  Preliminares.”  Viaje  del  Cwpitan 
Texeira,  p.  32. 

2 Castellanos,  for  instance,  writes: — 

“De  aqui,  sac6  despues  sus  invenciones 
El  capitan  Francisco  de  Orellana 
Para  llamalle  rio  de  Amazonas.” 


481 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


great  river  of  which  he  has  left  us  the  first  written  account. 
As  a matter  of  fact,  the  discreet  Dominican  confines  him- 
self to  giving  the  answers  which  a certain  Indian,  who  was 
interrogated  by  Orellana,  gave  regarding  the  manner  of 
life  of  these  women  warriors,  and  does  not  commit  himself 
to  an  expression  of  his  own  opinion  about  the  matter. 

Laureano  de  la  Cruz,  who  heard  similar  stories  from  the 
Indians  about  a tribe  of  female  warriors  is  equally  non- 
committal. He  said  he  saw  nothing  and  could  secure  no 
information  that  would  justify  the  reported  existence  of 
such  women. 

It  was  reserved  for  Padre  Acuna  to  give  the  story  of  the 
Amazons  the  vogue  it  has  so  long  enjoyed.  He  devotes 
two  whole  chapters  to  the  subject,  and  concludes  that  “The 
foundations  for  asserting  the  existence  of  a province  of 
the  Amazons  in  this  river  are  so  numerous  and  so  strong 
that  it  would  be  invalidating  human  testimony  not  to  give 
them  credit.  It  is  inconceivable,”  he  says,  “that  a lie  about 
the  matter  should  obtain  in  so  many  languages  and  nations, 
and  have  at  the  same  time  all  the  semblance  of  truth.” 

How  far  Acuna  is  deserving  of  credence  in  such  matters 
may  be  inferred  by  what  he  says  regarding  other  marvels 
existing  along  the  Amazon.  Among  these — the  coinage  of 
a credulous  fancy — are  a nation  of  dwarfs  who  are  no 
larger  than  very  young  children — criaturas  muy  tiernas — 
a nation  of  giants  sixteen  palms  high,  and  a nation  whose 
inhabitants  have  their  feet  reversed  so  that  one  who  was 
unaware  of  this  fact,  and  wished  to  follow  in  the  footsteps 
of  these  strange  people,  would  go  in  the  opposite  direction 
taken  by  them.  More  than  this,  the  valley  of  the  Amazon, 
he  assures  us,  abounds  in  treasures  of  gold  and  silver  that 
exceed  those  of  Peru  and  Potosi.  In  it  is  found  a lake  of 
gold  and  a volcano  filled  with  precious  stones,  not  to  speak 
of  other  teratological  extravagances  which  were  so  start- 
ling that  his  distinguished  contemporary  and  brother  in 
religion,  Padre  Ruiz  de  Montoya,  felt  constrained  to  pro- 
nounce them  as  beyond  belief. 

482 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  AMAZON 

This  chapter  of  early  Amazon  adventure  and  romance 
would  be  incomplete  without  some  reference  to  the  extraor- 
dinary experience  of  Madame  Godin  des  Odonais  who,  in 
1769,  left  Riobamba  in  the  province  of  Quito,  with  the  inten- 
tion of  joining  her  husband  in  Cayenne,  at  the  opposite  side 
of  the  continent.  So  marvelous  indeed  was  it,  that,  were  it 
not  thoroughly  attested,  it  would  seem  incredible.  No 
woman,  it  is  safe  to  say,  ever  endured  greater  hardships, 
braved  greater  dangers  and  lived  to  tell  the  story  of  it  all. 

When  she  started  on  her  journey  her  escort  consisted  of 
her  two  brothers,  a physician,  a negro  servant,  a nephew 
nine  or  ten  years  old,  three  young  women  domestics  and 
thirty  Indians  to  act  as  porters  of  herself  and  baggage. 
These  Indians,  however,  had  scarcely  arrived  at  Canelos, 
a small  village  east  of  the  Andes,  when  they  deserted  her. 
Canelos  itself,  they  found,  had  been  so  ravaged  by  small- 
pox that  only  two  of  its  inhabitants — both  Indians — were 
left.  To  make  matters  worse,  there  was  not  a single  canoe 
in  the  place  and  the  party  had  to  remain  until  the  two 
Indians  could  make  one. 

The  canoe  finished,  Madame  Godin  payed  the  Indians  in 
advance  to  take  her  down  the  Bobonaza  to  Andoas,  a mis- 
sion station  about  a hundred  and  fifty  miles  down  the  river. 
But  two  days  after  leaving  Canelos  these  Indians  also 
abandoned  her,  leaving  her  without  a guide.  The  unfortu- 
nate party  then  proceeded  on  their  journey  without  assist- 
ance until  the  following  day,  when  they  found  an  Indian 
just  recovering  from  an  illness,  who  consented  to  accom- 
pany them  and  act  as  steersman.  But  the  third  day  an 
accident  occurred  by  which  the  poor  fellow  was  drowned. 

"When  they  were  yet  five  or  six  days  distant  from  Andoas, 
their  canoe  foundered  and  they  had  to  leave  it  and  build  a 
hut  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  send  to  Andoas  for  an- 
other boat  and  Indians  to  man  it.  After  waiting  twenty- 
five  days  for  the  expected  assistance,  and  despairing  of 
receiving  it,  they  constructed  a raft  on  which  they  embarked 
with  their  provisions  and  effects.  But  the  raft  soon  struck 

483 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


against  a submerged  tree;  all  the  freight  was  lost,  and  the 
passengers  barely  escaped  with  their  lives. 

Placed  in  a more  trying  situation  than  ever,  they  resolved 
to  follow  afoot  the  sinuous  banks  of  the  river  through  the 
thick  tangled  mass  of  shrubs  and  lianas.  But  their  prog- 
ress was  so  slow  that  they  concluded  to  shorten  their  jour- 
ney by  taking  a straight  course  through  the  woods,  and,  in 
so  doing,  they  discovered  after  some  days  of  aimless  wan- 
dering that  they  were  hopelessly  lost. 

Wearied  by  such  long  marches  in  an  almost  impenetrable 
forest,  their  feet  lacerated  by  thorns  and  brambles,  their 
provisions  exhausted,  and  dying  of  thirst,  their  only  sus- 
tenance was  certain  wild  fruits  and  palm  leaves.  At  last, 
overcome  by  hunger  and  fatigue,  and  too  weak  to  stand, 
they  fell  to  the  ground  and  awaited  the  approach  of  death. 

In  three  or  four  days  they  expired,  one  after  another, 
with  the  exception  of  Madame  Godin.  She,  stupefied,  de- 
lirious and  tormented  with  a choking  thirst,  remained  for 
two  days  prostrate  beside  the  corpses  of  her  two  brothers 
and  those  of  her  other  companions.  At  length,  however, 
she  recovered  sufficient  strength  and  courage  to  resume  her 
wanderings.  She  was  then  without  shoes  and  her  clothes 
were  reduced  to  tatters.  Cutting  the  soles  from  the  shoes 
of  her  dead  brothers,  she  used  them  as  sandals. 

On  the  second  day  of  her  random  wanderings  she  found 
water,  and  the  following  days  some  wild  fruits  and  fresh 
eggs,  apparently  of  some  kind  of  partridge.  She  was 
scarcely  able  to  swallow,  so  constricted  was  her  throat  by 
lack  of  food,  but  her  skeleton  frame  managed  to  subsist  on 
such  food  as  chance  placed  within  her  reach.  Nine  days 
after  leaving  the  spot  where  her  brothers  and  domestics 
had  died,  she  reached  the  Bobonaza,  where  by  the  rarest  of 
good  fortune  she  encountered  two  Indians  who  were  in  the 
act  of  launching  a canoe.  She  begged  them  to  take  her  to 
Andoas,  which  they  readily  agreed  to  do.  Thence  she  made, 
her  way  down  the  Pastasa  to  the  Amazon,  and  then  to  La- 
guna on  the  Huallaga.  There  she  was  kindly  received  by 

484 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  AMAZON 


the  superior  of  the  missions,  and,  after  her  health  and 
strength  were  sufficiently  restored,  she  continued  her  voy- 
age down  the  Amazon,  and  eventually  succeeded  in  rejoin- 
ing her  husband  in  Cayenne. 

But  the  recollection  of  the  long  and  terrible  scenes  of 
which  she  had  been  a witness,  the  horror  of  the  solitude  and 
of  the  nights  in  the  wilderness,  the  dread  which  was  in- 
tensified every  moment,  so  deeply  affected  her  that  her  hair 
became  white. 

Her  husband,  who  has  left  us  in  a letter  to  his  friend,  M. 
de  la  Condamine,1  a graphic  account  of  the  awful  experience 
of  his  wife,  well  remarks  that  it  is  too  improbable  for  a 
romance,  for  it  does  not  seem  possible  that  a lone,  deli- 
cately-nurtured woman,  accustomed  to  all  the  comforts  of 
life,  could  survive  privations  and  hardships  which  caused 
the  death  of  her  brothers  and  servants,  and  left  her  to  con- 
tinue the  struggle  unaided  and  alone.  It  would  be  indeed 
difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  find  a parallel  to  such  en- 
durance on  the  part  of  a woman,  and,  for  this  reason, 
Madame  Godin’s  name  will  ever  be  indissolubly  linked  with 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  adventures,  and  one  of  the  most 
thrilling  of  the  many  romances  that  have  made  the  Amazon 
so  famous. 

Nearly  a century  and  a half  have  elapsed  since  Madame 
Godin’s  memorable  journey,  but  the  forests  and  rivers  she 
traversed  are  still  as  wild  and  as  picturesque  as  they  were 
in  her  day.  Indeed,  they  have  witnessed  but  little  change 
since  Orellana’s  voyage  nearly  four  centuries  ago.  If  we 
may  credit  the  statements  of  Carvajal  and  Laureano  de 
la  Cruz,  the  chief  difference  between  the  Amazon  valley, 
as  they  saw  it,  and  as  the  traveler  finds  it  to-day,  lies  in 
the  incomparably  less  number  of  aborigines  that  now  peo- 
ple the  banks  of  the  great  river,  as  compared  with  the 
countless  thousands  that  greeted  the  Spaniards  and  the 

i Published  at  the  end  Relation  AbrSgte  d'  un  Voyage  Fait  dans  V In- 
t&rieur  de  V Amirique  Meridional,  par  M.  de  la  -Condamine,  a Maestricht, 
1778. 


485 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

Portuguese  under  Orellana  and  Texeira.  War  and  dis- 
ease and  soulless  Dutch  and  Portuguese  slavers  have  re- 
duced the  number  of  Indians  to  a small  fraction  of  what 
it  was  when  this  region  was  first  visited  by  Europeans. 
One  still  sees  a native  village  here  and  there,  and  an  occa- 
sional hut  surrounded  by  maize,  plantain  and  manihot,  but 
the  dense  population  that  so  surprised  the  early  chroniclers, 
is  a thing  of  the  past.  Many  tribes  have  disappeared  en- 
tirely, while  others  have  retired  far  into  the  recesses  of  the 
forest,  where  a white  man  never  penetrates. 

The  islands,  too,  that  so  thickly  dot  the  river  for  a thou- 
sand leagues,  and  which  were  once  the  favorite  haunts  of 
the  liberty-loving  red  men,  are  now  almost  entirely  depopu- 
lated. In  the  upper  Amazon  alone  in  the  time  of  Padre 
Fritz,  there  were  more  than  fifty  islands  inhabited  by  four 
different  Indian  tribes,  among  whom  were  no  fewer  than 
thirty-eight  reductions.  Nearly  all  of  these  are  now  aban- 
doned, and,  instead  of  sixty  thousand  Christian  Indians 
who,  two  centuries  ago  flourished  under  the  benign  rule  of 
the  missionaries  of  San  Borja  and  Laguna,  we  find  to-day 
only  a small  fraction  of  this  number,  most  of  whom  are 
neglected  and  practically  forgotten  by  those  to  whom  these 
poor  children  of  the  forest  have  a right  to  look  for  the  same 
assistance  and  instruction  that  were  enjoyed  by  their  fore- 
fathers. 

And  although  this  part  of  South  America  has,  for  more 
than  a century,  been  the  favorite  resort  of  explorers  and 
naturalists  and  ethnologists  from  Europe  and  the  United 
States,  it  is  still  but  imperfectly  known.  Notwithstanding 
the  famous  researches  and  explorations  of  the  missionaries 
mentioned  in  the  preceding  chapter  and  of  those  of  La 
Condamine,  Spix  and  Martius,  Poeppig,  D’Orbigny,  Castel- 
nau,  Herndon,  Gibbon,  Bates,  Spruce,  Wallace,  Agassiz, 
Hartt,  Chandless,  Penna,  Coutinlio,  and  scores  of  others 
who  have  immortalized  themselves  by  their  scientific 
achievements  in  the  Amazon  basin,  this  greatest  of  the 
world’s  forests  still  holds  countless  secrets  for  those  who 

486 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  AMAZON 

are  willing  to  venture  into  its  unexplored  depths.  So  far, 
indeed,  is  our  knowledge  of  the  immense  selva  of  the  Ama- 
zon from  being  complete,  that  we  can,  to  borrow  an  expres- 
sion of  the  conquistador,  Francisco  Preciado,  who  declared 
that  there  was  in  the  New  World  country  enough  to  con- 
quer for  a thousand  years,  confidently  assert  that  there  is 
still  in  this  exhaustless  territory  enough  virgin  material  to 
occupy  the  conquistadores  of  science  for  ten  centuries  to 
come. 


487 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


SAILING  UNDER  THE  LINE 

The  first  place  of  importance  at  which  we  arrived  after 
leaving  Yurimaguas  was  Iquitos,  the  capital  of  the  depart- 
ment of  Loreto.  It  is  pleasantly  located  on  the  left  bank 
of  the  Amazon  about  six  hundred  miles  below  Yurimaguas, 
and  counts  from  twelve  to  fifteen  thousand  inhabitants,  be- 
sides a large  floating  population.  The  city,  which  ranks  as 
the  most  important  port  in  Peru  after  Callao,  is  quite  cos- 
mopolitan in  character,  for  it  has  representatives  from  al- 
most all  parts  of  the  world,  including,  of  course,  the  ubiqui- 
tous Chinese. 

Here  I left  our  trim  little  steamer,  the  Miraflores,  in 
which  I had  spent  two  delightful  days,  and  became  the 
guest  of  the  prefect  of  Iquitos,  who  at  once  planned  for  me 
a series  of  excursions  up  the  Ucayali,  the  Napo  and  the 
Putumayo.  I regretted  then,  and  have  often  regretted 
since,  that  lack  of  time  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  avail 
myself  of  his  courteous  offers,  for  nothing  would  have 
given  me  greater  pleasure  than  to  continue  my  wanderings 
in  tropical  wilds,  especially  under  such  favorable  auspices. 

Iquitos,  which  is  a place  of  recent  foundation,  is  to-day 
something  like  Leadville,  Colorado,  was  three  decades  ago. 
The  difference  is  that  in  the  American  town  in  its  palmy 
days  everybody  talked  silver,  whereas  in  Iquitos  the  usual 
topic  of  conversation  is  rubber  and  the  prevailing  market 
price  for  this  precious  commodity. 

“We  care  nothing  for  politics  or  religion  here,”  said  a 
prominent  business  man  to  me ; “the  only  thing  we  have  any 
interest  in  is  the  English  sovereign.” 

For  this  everything  is  sacrificed,  health  and  even  life. 

488 


SAILING  UNDER  THE  LINE 


Anri  to  secure  the  much  coveted  latex  of  the  Heva  Brasilien- 
sis,  men  penetrate  the  dark  and  dismal  swamps  bordering 
the  Amazon,  and  the  fever-infected  districts  of  its  tribu- 
taries, no  matter  where,  in  which  rubber  trees  are  known  to 
abound.  This  tree,  of  whatever  species,  is  indeed  the  tree 
of  life  and  death  in  this  part  of  the  world,  for,  while  it 
furnishes  the  means  of  subsistence  to  countless  thousands 
in  all  parts  of  the  globe,  it  is  likewise  the  cause  of  prema- 
ture death  for  growing  multitudes  in  every  part  of  the 
Amazonian  basin. 

How  vast  is  the  wealth  hidden  in  the  forests  bordering 
the  Amazon  and  its  affluents,  may  he  gauged  from  the  fact 
that  the  rubber  annually  exported  from  this  part  of  the  con- 
tinent fetches  in  the  markets  of  Europe  and  the  United 
States  the  enormous  sum  of  $50,000,000.  And  so  abundant 
is  the  store  of  rubber  in  regions  that  have  not  yet  been 
visited  that  this  amount  could,  if  necessary,  he  duplicated. 

No  wonder  that  agriculture  and  grazing  and  other  indus- 
tries are  neglected  in  this  part  of  South  America ; that  every 
one  is  seeking  his  fortune  in  the  rubber  forest  instead  of 
looking  for  it  in  other  spheres  of  activity,  where  there  would 
be  less  danger  to  health  and  life,  and  where  remuneration 
for  energy  expended  would  be  fully  as  great,  if  not  greater. 

All  along  the  river  front  in  Iquitos  are  large  warehouses 
filled  with  crude  rubber  collected  from  all  the  forests  along 
the  Huallaga,  the  Ucayali,  the  Napo,  the  Javari,  the  Tigre 
and  their  countless  tributaries.  At  times  the  river  about 
the  wharf  is  crowded  with  boats  of  all  kinds — river  steam- 
ers, launches,  schooners,  brigs,  large  and  small — all  laden 
with  rubber  just  brought  in  from  the  forests,  and  often 
from  points  many  hundred  miles  distant.  There  are  also 
dugouts  of  every  size,  manned  by  Indians  of  various  tribes, 
some  of  them  fantastically  tattooed  and  garbed  in  the  prim- 
itive costumes  used  in  the  wilderness.  It  is  an  interesting 
and  picturesque  scene  and  one  characteristic  of  the  Amazon. 

In  the  center  of  these  motley  craft  are  several  ocean 
steamers  discharging  merchandise  from  the  United  States 

489 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


and  Europe,  or  taking  aboard  for  foreign  markets  their 
regular  consignments  of  the  great  staple  which  is  the  chief 
mainspring  of  the  commercial  activity  of  the  entire  Ama- 
zonian basin  from  Iquitos  to  Para.  All  is  bustle  and 
confusion — English,  Germans,  Spaniards,  Chinese  coolies, 
Morocco  Jews,  Indians  of  many  tribes,  all  shouting  and 
gesticulating  at  the  same  time  and  reproducing  in  divers 
tongues  all  the  confusion  of  Babel. 

On  leaving  Iquitos,  where  I spent  several  delightful  days, 
I felt  that  I was  bidding  adieu  to  Peru  and  its  charming 
people,  among  whom  I had  spent  some  of  the  happiest 
months  of  my  life.  It  is  true,  I was  to  be  in  Peruvian  terri- 
tory until  I should  reach  Leticia,  the  military  post  near  the 
Brazilian  frontier,  but  I would  have  little  occasion  to  see 
much  more  of  its  inhabitants. 

As  I was  going  to  the  steamer — a freighter  bound  for 
New  York — the  dear  old  melody  of  Home  Sweet  Home  was 
wafted  to  my  ears.  It  came  from  an  Edison  phonograph 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  Never  was  music  more 
grateful  and  never  did  it  evoke  fonder  memories  than  at 
that  moment,  when  my  year’s  wanderings  through  mountain 
and  forest  were  nearing  the  end.  It  is  true,  I was  still 
more  than  five  thousand  miles  from  home,  but  I could  now 
reach  it  by  simply  remaining  on  the  steamer  I was  about  to 
board.  But  even  this  was  unnecessary.  The  dulcet  notes 
of  the  old  familiar  air,  as  if  by  magic,  annihilated  space 
and  time  and  I was  in  fancy  amid  the  loved  ones,  from 
whom  I had  been  so  long  separated  by  broad  seas  and  un- 
traversed wilds. 

The  prefect  and  a number  of  friends  came  to  the  steamer 
to  wish  me  feliz  viaje,  but  the  last  to  say  Adios— and  this 
they  did  with  tears  in  their  eyes — were  my  good,  devoted,  af- 
fectionate escort  who  had  accompanied  me  from  Moyobamba 
and  who  had  contributed  so  much  to  the  pleasure  of  one  of 
the  most  interesting  and  enjoyable  parts  of  my  long  jour- 
ney in  South  America.  I never  recall  my  delightful  ex- 
periences in  the  montana,  or  along  the  Paranapura  and  the 

490 


SAILING  UNDER  THE  LINE 


Huallaga,  without  seeing  before  me  the  beaming  faces  of  my 
loyal,  whole-souled  companions  who,  during  all  the  time 
we  were  together,  had  no  thought  but  that  of  my  comfort 
and  pleasure. 

But  in  justice  to  all,  I must  here  state  that  these  members 
of  my  escort  were  not  the  only  ones  to  whom  I owe  undying 
gratitude  for  their  loyalty  and  self-sacrificing  spirit.  All 
those  who  had  accompanied  me  on  the  long  journey  across 
the  Andes  were  of  the  same  type.  Whether  Spaniards, 
mestizos  or  Indians,  they  were  ever  ready,  day  and  night, 
to  render  me  any  service  in  their  power,  and  this  they 
always  did  with  such  promptness  and  unfeigned  cheerful- 
ness that  I was  often  struck  with  astonishment.  “ Es  nues- 
tro  deber” — “it  is  our  duty” — they  said,  when  I expostu- 
lated with  them  for  doing  more  than  was  necessary,  espe- 
cially when  they  were  fatigued  after  a long  day’s  journey. 
I can  truly  say  that  I have  never  met  more  unselfish,  more 
honest  or  more  faithful  people  than  those  devoted,  noble 
young  fellows  who  composed  my  escort  from  Trujillo  on 
the  Pacific  to  the  capital  of  Loreto  on  the  Amazon.  May 
heaven’s  choicest  blessings  always  be  theirs! 

The  first  place  of  importance  at  which  we  stopped  after 
leaving  Iquitos  was  Manaos,  the  capital  of  Amazonas,  the 
largest  state  of  Brazil.  But  it  is  a long  distance  between 
the  two  cities — nearly  fourteen  hundred  miles,1 — and  our 
steamer  spent  five  days  in  going  from  one  port  to  the  other. 

There  is  little  occasion  to  describe  the  sights  along  the 
Amazon  between  these  two  points,  for  they  are  essentially 
the  same  as  what  is  observed  along  the  Huallaga  and  the 
Paranapura.  The  only  difference  is  that  everything  is 
on  a grander  scale,  and  the  ever-changing  vistas  are  more 
magnificent.  Aside  from  the  tawny  Amazon — the  visible 
equator,  as  it  has  been  aptly  called — the  eye  sees  nothing 
but  interminable  stretches  of  verdure,  an  unbroken  virgin, 
forest,  which  is  almost  coterminous  with  the  vast  basin 

i According  to  the  navigators  of  the  Amazon,  the  exact  distance  is  eleven 
hundred  and  fifty-one  knots. 


491 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


of  the  Amazon  and  the  Orinoco.  In  the  western  part  alone 
of  this  immense  selva  there  is  a circle  of  woodland  eleven 
hundred  miles  in  diameter,  which  is  to-day  practically  what 
it  was  in  the  time  of  Orellana — an  ocean  of  exuberant  vege- 
tation such  as  exists  in  no  other  part  of  the  globe. 

In  March,  when  the  great  river  is  highest,  the  Amazon 
overflows  its  banks  and  then  becomes  an  inland  sea  two 
thousand  miles  long  and  from  thirty  to  forty  miles  wide. 
The  part  of  the  lowlands  thus  inundated  during  the  rise  of 
the  river  constitutes,  during  the  dry  season  what  the  Bra- 
zilians call  varzeas — flood-plains — as  distinguished  from 
tierra  firme — the  land  that  is  always  above  the  reach  of  the 
annual  inundation.  They  resemble  the  alluvial  flats  near 
the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi  with  their  network  of  lakes 
and  bayous.  In  parts  of  the  upper  Amazon  valley  these 
swamp-lands  are  more  than  a hundred  miles  in  width,  and 
here  one  can  actually  contemplate  the  earth  as  we  fancy  it 
to  have  been  during  the  Carboniferous  Period. 

The  Amazon  has  been  characterized  as  “a  fresh-water 
ocean  with  an  archipelago  of  islands.”  This  is  true  not 
only  because  of  its  physical  appearance  but  also  by  rea- 
son of  its  fauna,  especially  its  cetaceans,  among  which  are 
several  species  of  porpoises  and  the  odd-looking  manatee, 
to  which,  on  account  of  its  appearance,  the  Brazilians  give 
the  expressive  name  peixe-boi — fish-cow. 

Then  too,  the  silent,  onward  sweep,  which  is  barely  visi- 
ble, of  this  majestic  fresh  water  sea,  is  more  like  the  flow 
of  the  ocean  than  that  of  an  inland  stream.  “It  is  true,” 
as  Agassiz  has  remarked,  “that  in  this  oceanic  river  sys- 
tem the  tidal  action  has  an  annual  instead  of  a daily  flow, 
that  its  rise  and  fall  obey  a larger  orb,  and  is  ruled  by 
the  sun  and  not  by  the  moon;  but  it  is,  nevertheless,  subject 
to  all  the  conditions  of  a submerged  district  and  must  be 
treated  as  such.  Indeed,  these  semiannual  changes  of 
level  are  far  more  powerful  in  their  influence  on  the  life 
of  the  inhabitants  than  any  marine  tides.  People  sail  half 
the  year  above  districts  where  for  the  other  half  they 

492 


SAILING  UNDER  THE  LINE 


walk,  though  hardly  dry  shod,  over  the  soaked  ground; 
their  occupations,  their  dress,  their  habits  are  modified  in 
accordance  with  the  wet  and  dry  seasons.”1 

The  varzeas  above  mentioned,  which  extend  from  the 
foothills  of  the  Andes  to  the  Atlantic,  are  intersected  by 
countless  channels — mere  clefts  in  the  dense  masses  of  vine 
and  shrub  and  tree — which  the  Indians  appropriately  name 
igarapes — canoe-paths.  It  is  along  these  narrow  canals, 
scarcely  wider  than  a dugout,  over-arched  by  graceful, 
feathery  bamboos,  glossy  heliconias  and  drooping  palm- 
fronds,  that  one  will  find  the  most  superb  exhibitions  of 
floral  beauty  and  splendor  to  be  seen  in  the  tropics.  Only 
here  and  there  are  the  matted,  arching  boughs  penetrated 
by  a stray  sunbeam,  but  this  is  enough  to  bring  out  the 
glorious  sapphire  of  a fairy-blue  butterfly,  that  flits  in  front 
of  our  canoe,  or  the  emerald  and  topaz  flashes  of  the 
beauteous  humming  birds — kiss-flowers,  the  natives  say — 
which  dart  about  the  palm  blossoms  or  the  sweet  perfumed 
orchids,  that  here  possess  a delicacy  and  a fragrance  that 
are  quite  indescribable. 

Occasionally  these  igarapes  lead  to  a grass-covered  glade 
in  the  midst  of  which  is  a beautiful  mirror-like  lakelet,  to 
which  the  Indians  give  the  picturesque  name  of  round- 
water.  Here  one  will  find  great  flocks  of  snowy  white 
herons,  blue  bitterns,  black  divers,  roseate  spoonbills, 
countless  ducks  of  various  hues,  lovely  egrets,  screaming 
parrots  and  macaws,  not  to  speak  of  various  species  of 
smaller  birds  that  contribute  their  share  to  the  open-air  con- 
cert. 

But  to  me  the  most  attractive  features  in  the  splendid 
landscape  that  defiled  before  us  were  those  “princes  of 
the  vegetable  world” — the  palms.  I never  wearied  con- 
templating them,  so  numerous,  so  diverse,  so  graceful,  so 
noble.  Here  they  are  scattered  among  the  other  trees  of 
the  forest,  there  they  are  grouped  alone,  thousands  of  them 

Journey  in  Brazil,  p.  256,  by  Professor  and  Mrs.  Louis  Agassiz,  Bos- 
ton, 1868. 


493 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


in  all  their  beauty  and  royal  magnificence.  At  one  place, 
near  the  river’s  bank,  I noted  a large  clump  of  Miriti 1 
palms,  of  unusual  size  and  perfection,  and  in  the  midst 
of  it  a campo  santo — the  last  resting  place  of  the  inhabit- 
ants of  a near-by  village,  over  which  was  wafted  the  cease- 
less requiem  of  the  shore-lapping  waves  of  the  majestic, 
solemn  river-sea. 

How  simple  it  was,  and  how  appropriate ! The  palm  is 
the  symbol  of  victory  and  of  a happy  resurrection.  As  a 
God’s-acre,  as  the  Germans  devoutly  name  the  final  rest- 
ing place  of  their  dead,  this  palm  grove  was  absolutely 
matchless,  and,  to  my  mind,  the  most  beautiful  burial  place 
in  the  world.  Some  one  has  said  that  “It  was  an  old 
Indian  taste  that  nature  should  do  its  part  towards  the 
adornment  of  the  God’s-acre.”  Here  this  idea  is  realized 
in  a superb  manner,  and  in  a way  calculated  to  teach  a 
lesson  to  those  who  squander  fortunes  on  cold  granite  and 
chilly  marble. 

Villages  and  human  habitations  are  few  between  Iquitos 
and  Manaos — far  less  numerous  than  they  were  in  the  days 
of  Orellana  and  Texeira.  The  houses,  or  rather  huts  of  the 
natives,  are  like  those  in  other  parts  of  the  fluvial  region 
of  the  tropics — palm-thatched  sheds  or  cots  of  bamboo 
wattle-work.  As  to  their  inmates,  they  can  best  be  de- 
scribed in  the  words  of  the  Italian  traveler,  Osculati,  who 
visited  this  region  in  the  first  part  of  the  last  century  and 
who  declares  that  all  of  them,  “women,  men,  children, 
chickens,  monkeys,  birds,  etc.,  are  huddled  together,”  and 
that  all,  except  the  animals  mentioned,  “spend  the  greater 
part  of  their  time  stretched  in  their  hammocks  in  the  most 
complete  immobility.  ’ ’ 2 

Around  this  primitive  habitation  is  the  usual  plot  of 
ground  for  the  cultivation  of  maize,  plantains  and  manioc. 

And  such  maize ! I have  never  seen  anything  like  it  ex- 

1 Mauritia  flexosa,  known  also  as  Moriche  palm. 

2 Esplorazione  delle  Regioni  Equatoriali  lungo  il  Napo  ed  il  Fiume  delle 
Amazzoni,  p.  167,  Milano,  1850. 


494 


SAILING  UNDER  THE  LINE 


cept  in  the  fertile  valleys  of  the  Meta  and  Orinoco.  Here 
one  can  raise  three  crops  a year  of  this  valuable  food-plant 
and  of  the  very  best  quality.  Is  it  any  wonder  then  that 
the  ancient  Peruvians  worshiped  a plant  that  for  little  labor 
furnished  them  with  their  chief  means  of  subsistence ! 

Manioc — Manihot  utilissima— is  even  more  serviceable 
to  the  inhabitants  of  equatorial  regions  than  maize, 
for  its  root  supplies  the  natives  at  a minimum  of  labor 
with  meat  and  drink — meat  in  the  form  of  flour,  called  by 
the  Spaniards  pan  de  tierra  caliente,  and  drink,  in  the  vari- 
ety of  chicha  prepared  from  the  juice  which  is  extracted 
from  the  root. 

Scarcely  less  useful  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  tropics  than 
maize  and  manioc  is  the  plantain,  of  which  there  are  nearly 
a hundred  varieties.  This  plant  is  never  absent  from  even 
the  humblest  homestead.  It  is  prized  not  only  on  account 
of  the  value  of  its  fruit  as  food  but  also  because  it  requires 
but  little  care.  It  was  on  account  of  the  varieties  and 
abundance  of  plantains  and  bananas,  and  the  fact  that  they 
yielded  an  inexhaustible  supply  of  wholesome  nutriment  in 
return  for  nominal  labor  on  the  part  of  the  consumer,  that 
certain  political  economists  long  ago  declared  that  civiliza- 
tion could  never  reach  a high  plane  in  the  tropics  until 
these  rich  fruit-bearing  plants  were  destroyed  by  law  and 
the  people  living  there  were  compelled  to  work  for  a liveli- 
hood.1 As  it  is,  bounteous  nature  supplies  the  inhabitants 
with  all  the  food  they  require,  without  exertion  on  their 
part  except  during  a few  days  of  the  year.  The  rest  of 
the  time  they  spend  in  absolute  idleness  with  no  incentive 
whatever  to  labor,  and  happy  in  the  thought  that  lavish 
nature  will  always  make  ample  provision  for  their  wants, 
which  are  as  few  as  they  are  simple. 

Many  travelers  complain  of  the  monotonous  character  of 

1 “We  hear  it  frequently  repeated  in  Spanish  colonies  that  the  inhabitants 
of  the  warm  region — tierra  caliente — will  never  awake  from  the  state  of 
apathy,  in  which  for  centuries  they  have  been  plunged,  till  a royal  cedula 
shall  order  the  destruction  of  the  banana  plantations — plalanales.”  Hum- 
boldt, Political  Essay,  Book  IV,  Chap.  9,  p.  380,  London,  1822. 

495 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


a journey  on  the  Amazon,  but  such  travelers  are  not  lovers 
of  nature.  They  declare  there  is  nothing  visible  except  a 
broad  muddy  river  and  an  interminable  expanse  of  green. 
It  is  true  that  one  does  not  see  along  the  Amazon  the  glori- 
ous autumn  tints  of  our  northern  woods — the  rich  crim- 
sons and  dark  purples,  the  soft  browns  and  golden  yellows 
— that  rival  in  splendor  the  hues  of  the  rainbow.  Un- 
known is  the  rotation  of  seasons,  their  grateful  contrasts 
and  the  gifts  with  which  each  of  them  is  laden.  Unknown 
are  the  long  trance  of  winter  and  the  bright  awakening 
of  Flora’s  children  at  the  first  breath  of  spring.  All  this 
is  true,  but  notwithstanding  the  “ceaseless  round  of  ever- 
active  life,  which  weaves  the  fairest  scenery  of  the  tropics 
into  one  monotonous  whole,”  there  is,  nevertheless,  in 
every  component  part  of  this  marvelous  floral  and  faunal 
display,  a beauty  and  a variety  and  an  infinitude  of  ex- 
quisite detail  that  are  the  exclusive  products  of  the  eternal 
summer  of  the  equator. 

“To  the  student  of  nature,”  as  Wallace  pertinently  ob- 
serves in  this  connection,  “the  vegetation  of  the  tropics 
will  ever  be  of  surpassing  interest,  whether  for  the  variety 
of  forms  and  structures  which  it  presents,  for  the  bound- 
less energy  with  which  the  life  of  plants  is  therein  mani- 
fested, or  for  the  help  which  it  gives  us  in  our  search  after 
the  laws  which  have  determined  the  production  of  such  in- 
finitely varied  organisms.  When,  for  the  first  time,  the 
traveler  wanders  in  these  primeval  forests,  he  can  scarcely 
fail  to  experience  sensations  of  awe,  akin  to  those  excited 
by  the  tractless  ocean  or  the  Alpine  snowfields.  There 
is  a vastness,  a solemnity,  a gloom,  a sense  of  solitude  and 
of  human  insignificance,  which  for  a time  overwhelm  him; 
and  it  is  only  when  the  novelty  of  these  feelings  have  passed 
away  that  he  is  able  to  turn  his  attention  to  the  separate 
constituents  that  combine  to  produce  these  emotions,  and  ex- 
amine the  varied  and  beautiful  forms  of  life  which,  in  in- 
exhaustible profusion,  are  spread  around  him.”  1 


Op.  cit.  p.  269. 


496 


SAILING  UNDER  THE  LINE 


The  meteorological  phenomena  observable  along  the 
Amazon  were  for  me  things  of  never-failing  interest. 
Chief  among  these  was  the  action  of  the  trade  winds  on 
the  temperature  of  the  valley.  Although  our  course  was 
almost  directly  under  the  equator  the  thermometer  rarely 
rose  above  75°  F.  One  entry  in  my  diary,  made  near  Ta- 
batinga,  reads  as  follows : “Temperature  at  7 a.  m.  68°  F. ; 

at  10  a.  m.  67°  F.  Cool  enough  for  a light  overcoat.”  An- 
other entry  made  near  Obidos,  reads,  “Very  cool  all  day. 
Temperature  from  68°  F.  in  the  morning  to  66°  F.  in  the 
afternoon.”  Still  another  observation  at  six  o’clock  in  the 
evening  on  board  our  steamer  in  mid-river,  gives  the  re- 
markably low  temperature  of  62°  F.  at  Para,  which  is  some- 
times supposed  to  be  a place  where  one  gasps  in  a fierce,  un- 
intermitting, intolerable  heat.1 

The  maximum  heat  encountered  at  the  chief  towns  be- 
tween Iquitos  and  Para  is  never  so  high  as  it  often  is  in 
New  York  and  Chicago,  notwithstanding  the  difference  in 
latitude  of  nearly  three  thousand  miles.  These  facts  show 
that  climate  does  not  depend  entirely  on  latitude.  They 
demonstrate,  too,  the  beneficent  action  of  the  trade  winds 
in  reducing  the  temperature,  especially  in  those  parts  of 
the  Amazon  valley  where  the  air  currents  are  unimpeded 
by  forests  and  mountains. 

Mention  must  also  be  made  of  the  turbonadas — sudden 
rainstorms — which  are  so  frequent  on  the  Amazon.  While 
we  are  contemplating  the  placid,  mirror-like  surface  of  the 
broad  river,  whose  sole  function  seems  to  be  to  reflect  the 
clear  blue  sky  and  the  vine-draped  forest  giants,  that 
stand  like  sentinels  along  the  ever-green  banks,  a dark 
cloud  appears  in  the  east.2  It  moves  towards  us  with  fear- 
ful rapidity,  and  almost  before  we  are  aware  of  it,  the 
storm  breaks  upon  us  with  a flash  of  lightning  and  a roll 

1 The  absolute  maximum  temperature  of  Par& — which  is  but  little  more 
than  one  degree  from  the  equator — is  9h°  F.,  considerably  lower  than  it  fre- 
quently is  in  the  northern  parts  of  the  United  States. 

2 Because  these  turbonadas  always  come  from  the  east,  the  Indians  declare 
that  “The  path  of  the  sun  is  the  path  of  the  storm.” 

497 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


of  thunder.  The  sudden  squall  lashes  the  clay-colored 
waters  of  the  river  into  a dangerous  whirl  of  wave  and 
foam  that  compels  all  smaller  craft  to  seek  safety  in  some 
protecting  igarape.  Such  tempests  are  rarely  of  long  du- 
ration, but  the  precipitation  is  sometimes  extraordinary. 
Castlenau  witnessed  a downpour  between  Nauta  and  Pebas 
in  which  the  rainfall  amounted  to  eighty-one  centimeters  in 
a few  hours — as  much  as  the  total  precipitation  in  Venice 
during  the  entire  year,  and  more  than  the  mean  annual 
rainfall  of  either  Paris  or  London. 

Although  the  fall  of  the  Amazon  for  the  last  two  thou- 
sand miles  of  its  course  is  but  little  more  than  an  inch  to 
the  mile,  its  erosive  power  is  enormous.  This  is  shown  by 
the  immense  masses  of  earth  which  are  constantly  being 
torn  from  the  banks  by  the  resistless  current,  the  formation 
of  new  channels  in  every  direction,  the  destruction,  one 
after  another,  of  the  countless  islands  that  dot  the  river 
from  the  Pongo  de  Manseriche  to  the  ocean.  This  resist- 
less movement,  which  carries  everything  before  it,  is  due 
to  the  immense  volume  of  water  which  is  continually  poured 
into  the  main  channel  by  the  innumerable  tributaries  that 
enter  the  great  river  on  both  sides  for  a thousand  leagues, 
and  which  must  have  an  outlet.  At  times  the  flood  is  cov- 
ered with  floating  tree-trunks  and  tangled  masses  of  vege- 
tation that  resemble  floating  islands,  or  the  jangada  of 
Jules  Verne.  These  are  frequently  arrested  by  sand  banks, 
or  grounded  in  shallows,  and  thus  become  the  nucleus  of  an 
island,  which  rapidly  grows  by  accretion  until  it  eventually 
becomes  the  fit  habitat  of  animals  and  men. 

Five  days  after  leaving  Iquitos  we  dropped  anchor  be- 
fore the  city  of  Manaos,  the  capital  of  Amazonas,  the 
largest  state  in  the  great  republic  of  Brazil.1  It  is 
situated  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Rio  Negro,  about  six  miles 
from  the  Amazon,  or  the  Solimoes,  as  it  is  here  called 
by  the  Portuguese.  The  confluence  of  the  two  rivers  is  re- 

1 Its  area  is  more  than  four  times  that  of  Texas  and  more  than  twenty- 
two  times  that  of  New  York. 


498 


A River  Scene  on  the  Rio  Negro  at  Manaos. 


SAILING  UNDER  THE  LINE 


markable  on  account  of  the  inky  blackness  of  the  waters  of 
the  Rio  Negro — Black  River — which  remain  separated  for 
a distance  of  several  miles  from  the  tan-colored  flood  of 
the  Amazon,  giving  the  great  river  immediately  below  the 
city  the  appearance  of  having  a double  current,  each  of  a 
different  color. 

So  dark  are  the  waters  of  the  Rio  Negro  that  they  have 
extorted  the  admiration  of  voyagers  from  the  earliest  days 
of  exploration.  Orellana’s  chronicler,  Padre  Carvajal, 
describing  the  river,  says,  “The  water  was  as  black  as  ink — 
era  negra  como  tinta — and  for  this  reason  we  gave  it  the 
name  Rio  Negro” — a name  it  has  since  retained. 

The  color  of  this  river,  it  may  be  added,  like  that  of  many 
other  Rio  Negros  in  South  America,  is  due  to  the  decaying 
vegetation  of  its  headwaters  and  that  of  the  forest  swamps 
which  border  its  numerous  and  sluggish  affluents. 

Manaos  is  an  enterprising  city  of  between  forty  and 
fifty  thousand  inhabitants,  and,  like  Iquitos,  is  an  important 
rubber  emporium.  It  is  quite  an  attractive  place,  and  con- 
tains several  imposing  public  and  private  buildings.  But 
the  most  remarkable  and  most  conspicuous  edifice  is  the 
theater  on  the  Avenida  Ribeiro.  It  is  a large  and  ornate 
structure,  with  a beautifully-painted  and  decorated  interior, 
and  will  compare  favorably  with  the  most  notable  play- 
houses in  the  United  States.  One  cannot  help  wondering 
why  such  a magnificent  building  was  erected  in  this  place 
— in  a territory  so  sparsely  populated,  and  where  appar- 
ently there  is  but  little  demand  for  it.  To  the  casual  vis- 
itor it  seems  like  a monument  of  reckless  extravagance. 

As  I was  wandering  through  the  warehouse  where  rub- 
ber was  prepared  for  shipment,  I was  surprised  to  learn 
that  the  lumber  used  for  the  boxes  in  which  it  is  packed  is 
all  imported.  Much  of  it  comes  from  the  United  States. 
Only  a few  days  before  my  arrival,  a single  vessel  from 
New  York  brought  a million  feet  of  pine  lumber  from 
Maine,  all  of  which  was  intended  for  boxing  rubber.  But 
lumber  is  imported  not  only  for  the  purpose  named,  but 

499 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


also  for  general  carpentry  work  and  all  kinds  of  building 
construction.  Indeed,  it  is  safe  to  assert  that  the  greater 
part  of  the  lumber  used  in  the  larger  Amazonian  towns  is 
imported  either  from  the  United  States  or  from  Europe. 

This  is  certainly  like  carrying  coals  to  Newcastle.  Why 
people  living  along  the  Amazon,  in  the  heart  of  the  largest 
and  richest  forest  in  the  world,  where  there  are  countless 
species  of  the  best  kinds  of  wood,  should  import  the  lumber 
they  use,  is  not  apparent  to  one  who  is  unfamiliar  with  the 
conditions  that  obtain  there. 

In  the  Amazonian  forests  there  are  at  least  two  or  three 
hundred  kinds  of  woods,  but,  paradoxical  as  it  may  appear, 
the  greatest  commercial  difficulty  comes  from  the  large 
number  of  species.  For,  although  the  kinds  of  timber  are 
so  numerous,  it  is  rarely  that  it  is  possible  to  find  a large 
number  of  trees  of  the  same  species,  in  the  same  place. 
They  are  so  scattered  and  at  so  great  distances  from  one 
another,  that  their  cutting  and  hauling  would,  as  a rule,  be 
extremely  expensive. 

Smith,  in  his  Brazil,  the  Amazons  and  the  Coast,  ex- 
plains the  difficulty  as  follows:  “Lumbermen  deal  in  large 
quantities ; they  want  so  many  hundred  thousand  or  million 
feet  of  a certain  kind  of  wood.  Now  suppose  I should  agree 
to  furnish  a million  feet  of  pao  d’  arco;  1 I would  be  baffled 
in  the  outset  because  the  trees  are  few  and  far  between; 
I must  cut  a road  for  every  one ; and  then  in  a square  mile 
of  timber  land  I would  get  no  more  than  fifty  or  a hundred 
logs.  By  rare  good  luck  I may  find  an  exceptional  spot 
where  the  species  that  I am  searching  for  exists  in  quantity, 
but  such  tracts  are  limited  and  often  far  from  the  river 
banks,  where  they  are  valueless  at  present.”  2 

For  this  reason,  and  because  of  the  suicidal  export  tax 
and  the  prohibitive  freight  rates,  very  little  lumber  is 
shipped  from  the  Amazon  valley  to  foreign  countries.  So 

i Meaning  bow-wood,  because,  being  tough  and  elastic,  the  Indians  use  it 
for  making  their  bows. 

2P.  201,  New  York,  1879. 


500 


SAILING  UNDER  THE  LINE 


far,  the  only  exportation  worth  mentioning  has  been  to 
Portugal,  and  the  total  amount  shipped  thither  in  1906  did 
not  have  a market  value  exceeding  seventy-five  thousand 
dollars.  There  is  no  doubt  a promising  future  in  this  great 
forest  region  for  some  enterprising  lumber  company  with 
plenty  of  capital.  Even  now  there  is  a fortune  awaiting 
the  first  one  to  put  on  the  markets  of  the  world  the  scores 
of  rare  cabinet  woods  which  abound  in  every  part  of  Ama- 
zonia. For  the  interior  furnishing  of  houses,  no  more 
beautiful  woods  can  be  found  than  the  cedar  of  Brazil — 
cedrella  odorata — the  acapu  and  pao  amarello,  a yellow 
wood  used  for  flooring. 

The  voyage  from  Manaos  to  Para  differed  in  no  respect 
from  that  in  the  upper  reaches  of  the  river.  The  scenery 
was  the  same  and  the  fauna  and  flora,  with  few  exceptions, 
were  similar  to  those  which  we  had  already  seen. 

About  fifty  miles  below  Manaos  is  the  embouchure  of  the 
great  river  Madeira,  so  called  by  the  first  Franciscan  ex- 
plorers, on  account  of  the  immense  amount  of  timber — ma- 
deira — that  was  observed  floating  down  stream  at  the  time 
of  their  passage. 

The  Madeira  just  now  is  attracting  special  attention  in 
the  commercial  world  on  account  of  the  long-projected 
railway,  which  is  at  last  being  built  around  the  falls  of  San 
Antonio,  six  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  the  Amazon. 
When  this  road  shall  be  completed,  communication  between 
the  Amazon  and  all  parts  of  Bolivia  will  be  easy  and  rapid. 
Hitherto,  owing  to  the  numerous  rapids  above  San  An- 
tonio, freight,  destined  for  points  on  the  Beni,  Mamore  and 
Madre  de  Dios,  had  to  be  transported  partly  by  land  and 
partly  by  water  in  canoes — for  a distance  of  nearly  two 
hundred  miles.  Even  under  such  unfavorable  conditions, 
the  amount  of  freight  shipped  into  and  out  of  Bolivia  by 
this  route  has  been  considerable,  but  the  outlet  for  trade 
which  the  railroad  will  furnish  will  open  up  a new  era  for 
the  northern  and,  in  some  respects,  the  most  productive 
part  of  Bolivia.  Already  the  amount  of  rubber  received 

501 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


from  this  section  of  South  America  is  quite  large,  but,  with 
improved  communications,  the  quantity  of  this  commodity, 
which  will  be  exported  from  this  region,  will  be  greatly  in- 
creased. The  completion  of  the  railroad  will  mean  a great 
deal  for  the  Bolivian  republic,  for,  owing  to  the  absence  of 
a suitable  outlet  for  its  products,  some  of  the  richest  parts 
of  the  country  have  hitherto  remained  undeveloped  and 
practically  unknown. 

The  people  of  Amazonia 1 interested  me  immensely, 
for  they  constitute  a most  complex  population,  the  result 
of  the  intermixture  of  three  distinct  races, — the  Portuguese, 
the  Indian  and  the  negro.  The  union  of  the  white  and  the 
negro,  as  with  us,  gives  the  mulatto,  while  that  of  the  Indian 
with  the  white  and  the  negro  produces  respectively  the 
mameluco  and  the  carafuz.  These  half-castes  and  their  in- 
timate and  continual  amalgamation  with  one  another  con- 
stitute the  Brazilian  of  the  present  day.  He  is  essentially 
a mestizo  and  all  the  three  races  mentioned  have  contrib- 
uted to  the  fixation  of  the  actual  type,  although  in  Ama- 
zonia there  is  far  more  Indian  than  African  blood  in  the 
half-breed  inhabitants  who,  at  least  in  the  larger  towns  and 
cities,  compose  the  majority  of  the  population. 

The  passengers  on  our  steamer  included  representatives 
of  many  races  and  climes.  Among  them  was  an  English- 
man on  his  way  from  the  diamond  mines  of  Matto  Grosso ; 
a Swiss  gentleman  and  his  bride, — a Peruvian  lady, — who 
were  bound  for  the  rubber  forests  of  one  of  the  most  distant 
affluents  of  the  Purus ; a full-blooded  Indian  and  his  twelve- 
year-old  wife,  who  had  the  same  destination;  two  Chinese 
merchants,  who  were  investigating  the  business  outlook  in 
Amazonia,  with  a view  to  bringing  their  countrymen  to  this 
part  of  the  world ; hut,  by  far  the  most  singular  character 
aboard  was  an  aged  Hebrew,  with  a long  white  beard,  who 
might  easily  have  passed  for  the  Wandering  Jew. 

1 The  name  sometimes  given  to  the  whole  Amazon  valley  but  more  specif- 
ically used  to  designate  the  two  great  northern  states  of  Brazil — Parfi  and 
Amazonas. 


502 


SAILING  UNDER  THE  LINE 

Although  far  advanced  in  years,  he  was  still  hale  and 
hearty  and  was  continually  evolving  plans  for  accumulating 
money.  He  had  been  in  all  parts  of  the  world  in  search  of 
fortune,  and  had  alternately  met  with  success  and  failure, 
lie  had  fished  for  pearls  in  Ceylon,  searched  for  rubies  in 
Siam,  sapphires  in  Cashmere,  and  diamonds  in  South  Af- 
rica. He  had  been  an  exchange  broker  in  Peru  and  Colom- 
bia, and  had  been  jeweler  to  Dom  Pedro,  the  last  emperor 
of  Brazil.  He  was  returning  from  Iquitos,  whither  he  had 
taken  a large  cargo  of  merchandise  from  New  York,  includ- 
ing a consignment  of  Milwaukee  beer.  When  I met  him  he 
was,  like  myself,  on  his  way  to  New  York. 

“In  many  of  my  ventures  in  South  America,”  he  said, 
“I  made  a pile  of  money,  but  in  Iquitos  I lost  heavily.  It 
was  all  because  of  the  Morocco  Jews  there,  who  forced  me 
to  sell  at  their  own  price.  The  Morocco  Jews  are  a bad 
lot — the  worst  Jews  in  the  world.  But  I am  going  back 
there  again  with  another  cargo  of  goods,  and  the  next  time 
I shall  make  a pile  of  money” — this  was  a favorite  expres- 
sion of  his — “in  spite  of  those  robbers  from  Morocco.” 

Then  suddenly  changing  the  subject,  he  asked,  “Did  you 
notice  how  black  the  Rio  Negro  was?  I am  sure  there  is 
gold  along  that  river.”  And  as  we  came  in  sight  of  Monte 
Alegre,  near  Santarem,  he  said,  “I’ll  bet  there  are  precious 
stones  in  those  highlands.  I shall  investigate  when  I come 
down  this  way  again,  for  I have  no  doubt  there  is  a pile  of 
money  to  be  made  there.” 

But,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he  was  always  think- 
ing of  “a  pile  of  money,”  he  was  a most  interesting  charac- 
ter, a pleasing  conversationalist,  with  an  extraordinary 
fund  of  information  on  every  topic.  He  was  an  accom- 
plished linguist,  and  had  a knowledge  of  the  world  that  was 
surprising.  And  in  spite  of  all  his  vicissitudes,  he  was  as 
hopeful  and  optimistic  as  a young  man  with  a bright  future 
before  him,  and  was  as  full  of  projects  as  if  he  were  going 
to  live  forever. 

As  one  descends  the  Amazon  below  Manaos,  one  remarks 

503 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


the  gradual  widening  of  the  main  channel  of  the  river.  In 
some  places  the  breadth  is  so  great  that  it  is  impossible  to 
see  more  than  one  of  the  banks  at  a time.  And  then  the 
network  of  side-channels  and  igarapes  and  bayous  becomes 
so  complicated  that  only  the  most  skillful  pilots  can  find 
their  way  to  their  destination. 

It  is  along  these  concealed  waterways,  where  there  is  an 
abundance  of  fish  and  game,  that  the  liberty-loving  Indian 
prefers  to  make  his  home.  It  is  here  also  where  the  serin- 
gueiros — rubber  collectors — have  their  huts,  except  during 
the  rainy  season  from  February  to  July,  when  the  ground 
is  under  water,  and  the  seringaes  are  deserted.  The  best 
quality  of  rubber,  called  in  Brazil  borracha  or  seringa  1 is 
obtained  here  from  the  Hevea  Brasiliensis,  and  is  known  in 
commerce  as  Para  rubber. 

At  Obidos  the  traveler  is  made  aware  of  a remarkable 
change  in  the  bed  of  the  river.  The  channel  is  much  nar- 
rower and  deeper  and  the  immense  flood  rushes  through  it 
with  increased  velocity.  From  a broad  inland  sea,  the 
Amazon  here  contracts  to  such  an  extent  that  its  width  is 
but  little  more  than  a mile.  For  this  reason  it  has  been 
called  the  Bosphorus  of  the  Amazon,  and  its  strategical 
value,  as  the  gateway  to  the  interior  of  the  continent,  has 
been  recognized  from  the  days  of  the  earliest  voyagers. 

Here  highlands  began  to  appear  for  the  first  time  since 
we  had  left  the  Andes.  And  so  enchanting  was  the  view  of 
something  rising  above  the  forest-clad  plain,  which  we  had 
so  long  been  traversing,  that  Monte  Alegre,  which  my  He- 
brew friend  insisted  was  a likely  place  for  precious  stones  of 
all  kinds,  seemed  to  me  rather,  like  another  Delos,  to  be  the 
chosen  home  of  Aphrodite.  The  joyful  mount,  “with  rich 
luxuriant  verdure  clad  ’ ’ and  rendered  musical  by  ‘ ‘ streams 

1 So  called  by  Padre  Manoel  da  Esperanca  because  he  discovered  that  the 
Cambelas  Indians  used  it  for  making  bottles  in  the  form  of  syringes — 
seringas — whence  the  name  seringueiros.  Caoutchouc  was  the  name  applied 
to  the  substance  by  the  Maynas  Indians  of  the  Upper  Amazon,  and  was  in- 
troduced into  France  by  La  Condamme,  after  his  return  from  South  Amer- 
ica, in  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

504 


SAILING  UNDER  THE  LINE 


sonorous,  sweet  and  fugitive,”  loomed  up  in  the  distance 
from  the  sea  of  greenery  like  the  “formosa  ilha  alegre  e 
deleitosa,” — “the  delightful,  lovely  island,  glad” — the  beau- 
tiful Isle  of  Loves — described  by  Camoens,  which  Venus,  as- 
sisted by  Cupid  and  the  Nereids,  prepared  for  the  reception 
and  entertainment  of  Vasco  da  Gama  and  his  hardy  mari- 
ners, after  their  epoch-making  discovery  of  the  passage  to 
India  by  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope. 

As  I passed  the  mouth  of  the  Tapajos  I looked  wistfully 
towards  the  south,  for  ever  since  I had  left  the  Orinoco, 
at  its  confluence  with  the  Meta,  the  desire  had  been  grow- 
ing on  me  to  cross  the  continent  from  Lake  Maracaibo  to 
Buenos  Aires,  by  way  of  the  Apure,  the  Cassiquiare,  the  Ma- 
deira or  the  Tapajos  and  the  Paraguay.  Such  a journey 
would,  it  is  true,  entail  some  hardships  and  a great  deal  of 
traveling  in  a dugout,  but  it  would  be  far  more  romantic 
than  traveling  by  steamer.  It  would,  besides,  take  one  off 
the  beaten  path  and  through  some  of  the  wildest  and  most 
interesting  parts  of  South  America.  Once  on  the  Apure, 
one  can  travel  by  water  almost  to  the  source  of  the  Tapajos, 
whence,  by  a portage  of  a thousand  feet,  one  can  reach  the 
headwaters  of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata,  and  thence  continue  by 
boat  to  the  fair  capital  of  Argentina.  In  fact,  canoes  com- 
ing from  Santarem  have,  during  high  water,  crossed  the 
watershed  near  Diamantino,1  and  descended  the  Paraguay 
to  Villa  Maria.  Will  this  desire  of  mine  ever  be  realized? 
Quien  sabe?  Speaking  for  my  single  self,  it  is  certainly  “a 
consummation  devoutly  to  be  wished.” 

As  we  approached  Para  I noticed  quite  a number  of  fish- 
ing smacks  and  montarias — Indian  canoes — scattered  along 
the  river,  all  engaged  in  making  provision  for  the  city  mar- 
ket, which  is  justly  celebrated  for  the  quantity  and  variety 
and  excellence  of  the  fish  there  offered  for  sale.  According 

i “The  Fazenda  do  Estivado,  near  Diamantino,”  writes  De  Castelnau,  “is  one 
of  the  most  curious  points  of  the  continent,”  for  “here,  but  a few  paces  apart, 
are  the  sources  of  two  of  the  greatest  rivers  of  the  world, — the  Amazon  and 
La  Plata.”  Expedition  dans  les  Parties  Centrales  de  L’Amdrique  du  Sud, 
Tom.  II,  p.  357,  Paris,  1850. 


505 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


to  Agassiz,  “the  Amazon  nourishes  nearly  twice  as  many 
species  as  the  Mediterranean,  and  a larger  number  than  the 
Atlantic,  taken  from  one  pole  to  the  other.”  Still  more 
remarkable  is  his  statement  regarding  “the  intensity  with 
which  life  is  manifested  in  these  waters.  All  the  rivers  of 
Europe  united,  from  the  Tagus  to  the  Volga,  do  not  nourish 
one  hundred  and  fifty  species  of  fresh-water  species,  and 
yet  in  a little  lake  near  Manaos,  called  Lago  Hyanuary,  the 
surface  of  which  covers  hardly  four  or  five  hundred  square 
yards,  we  have  discovered  more  than  two  hundred  distinct 
species,  the  greater  part  of  which  have  not  been  observed 
elsewhere.”  The  eminent  naturalist  estimated  the  total 
number  of  species,  which  he  had  been  able,  in  less  than  seven 
months,  to  collect  in  the  Amazon,  between  Para  and  Taba- 
tinga  to  be  from  eighteen  hundred  to  two  thousand.1 

And  yet,  incredible  as  it  may  seem,  we  never  saw  a single 
fresh  fish  of  any  kind  on  the  table  of  our  steamer  during 
our  entire  trip  down  the  Amazon.  When  one  of  the  passen- 
gers spoke  to  the  steward  about  procuring  some,  he  replied 
that  they  cost  too  much  and  that  he  had  positive  orders  from 
his  company  to  economize  and  keep  down  expenses  to  a 
minimum. 

Four  days  after  leaving  Manaos,  we  came  to  anchor  off 
the  queen  city  of  Amazonia — a city  that  rejoices  in  the  name 
of  Nossa  Senhora  de  Belem  do  Grao  Para,  but  which  is 
usually  known  as  Para.  It  was  founded  in  1615  by  Captain 
Francisco  Calderra  del  Castello  Branco,  and  numbers  about 
one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  inhabitants.  Among  its 
many  attractions  are  its  beautiful  parks  and  colonnades  of 
royal,  miriti  and  assai  palms  and  the  dark  mango  trees 
draped  gracefully  with  cypress  vines  and  Convolvuli,  which 
are  seen  in  many  of  the  gardens  around  the  houses.  But 
to  me  the  most  interesting  place  in  Para  was  the  Botanical 
Garden,  where  are  collected  the  chief  floral  beauties  of 
Amazonia — rare  and  delicate  plants,  with  the  most  fragrant 
blooms,  and  countless  palm  trees,  some  of  which,  like  the 

1 Op.  cit.  p.  382. 


506 


SAILING  UNDER  THE  LINE 


bussu  and  the  jupati,  have  enormous,  plume-like  leaves  from 
forty  to  fifty  feet  in  length,  while  others,  like  the  Maximil- 
iana  regia  with  its  noble  crown  of  great  glossy  leaves,  tower 
high  above  all  their  fellows. 

As  I was  wandering  through  the  market  examining  the 
fruits  and  fish  that  were  there  displayed  in  great  profusion, 
I ran  into  my  Hebrew  friend,  who  was  enjoying  a glass  of 
vinlio  d’  assai — the  juice  of  the  assai  palm — which  had  been 
prepared  for  him  by  a comely  young  mameluca  who  was  sur- 
rounded by  a crowd  of  natives,  all  clamoring  for  a draught 
of  their  favorite  beverage.  Indeed,  so  fond  of  this  drink 
are  the  people  of  Para,  and  so  proud  of  their  city,  that  they 
declare  that 


“Quem  veiu  para  Para  parou; 

Quem  bebeu  assai  ficu.  ’ ’ 

(“Who  came  to  Para  was  glad  to  stay, 

Who  drank  assai  went  never  away.”) 

After  inviting  me  to  take  a glass  with  him,  the  old  gen- 
tleman, much  to  my  surprise,  informed  me  that  he  had  con- 
cluded to  leave  our  steamer,  on  which  he  had  intended  to 
remain  until  his  arrival  in  New  York,  for  which  he  was 
booked. 

“I  can,”  he  said  with  considerable  feeling,  “stand  it  no 
longer.  I cannot  eat  the  food  served  on  the  steamer,  and 
it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  remain  longer  aboard  with- 
out danger  to  my  health.  For  more  than  a week  past  I have 
been  half  starved.  Think  of  it!  We  have,  since  leaving 
Iquitos,  been  in  the  best  fruit  and  fish  region  in  the  world, 
and  the  only  fruits  we  have  had  were  oranges  and  bananas, 
and  the  only  fish,  canned  salmon,  and  dry  codfish.  Not 
once  have  we  seen  fresh  fish  on  the  table,  nor  any  of  the  nuts 
and  fruits  that  are  so  abundant  in  the  Amazon  valley. 
Look  at  the  variety  of  fish  and  fruit  here.  It  was  the  same 
in  the  market  of  Manaos,  and  yet  there  was  absolutely  no 
provision  in  this  line  made  for  the  passengers  of  our 
steamer.  I spoke  to  the  steward  about  the  matter  to-day, 

507 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


and  what  do  you  think  he  told  me?  He  said  he  had  orders 
from  his  company  to  keep  down  expenses  and  that  pas- 
sengers would  have  to  be  satisfied  with  what  was  given 
them.  That  is  the  way  with  monopolies.  You  are  help- 
less when  you  are  unfortunate  enough  to  fall  into  their 
clutches.  I am  told  that  the  annual  dividends  of  the  com- 
pany are  thirty-five  per  cent.  Dios  mio!  It  must  make  a 
pile  of  money.  And  to  think  that  it  all  comes  from  our 
pockets  and  those  of  people  like  us,  who  are  forced  to  pat- 
ronize the  grinding  monopoly ! 

“No,  I can  stand  it  no  longer.  Eager  as  I am  to  reach 
New  York  at  the  earliest  possible  date,  I shall  wait  here  for 
the  arrival  of  a European  steamer  and  return  to  New 
York  by  way  of  Lisbon  and  London.”  In  bidding  me  good- 
by,  he  expressed  the  hope  that  we  should  soon  meet  each 
other  in  New  York,  or  in  some  other  part  of  the  world. 

Who  was  this  mysterious  man  and  whence  did  he  come? 
I never  learned  his  name  nor  the  land  of  his  birth.  In  my 
diary,  he  is  called  Kartaphilos,  one  of  the  many  traditional 
names  of  the  Wandering  Jew. 

By  reason  of  its  location  near  the  mouth  of  the  Amazon, 
where  it  can  control  the  trade  of  half  a continent,  Para 
should  be  a city  with  a great  future.  But  much  remains  to 
be  done  both  in  the  city  itself  and  in  the  valley  of 
the  Amazon  before  Para  can  attain  to  her  manifest 
destiny. 

For  years  past  the  chief  product  of  the  great  Amazon 
basin  has  been  rubber.  To  secure  this,  everything  else  has 
been  neglected — agriculture,  grazing,  manufactures.  The 
balsams,  gums,  dyes,  spices,  drugs,  and  cabinet  woods  which 
are  so  abundant,  have  remained  practically  untouched. 
Here  is  the  most  fertile  rice  land  in  the  world  and  yet  most 
of  the  rice  consumed  the  whole  length  of  the  river  is  im- 
ported from  China.  The  vast  territory  extending  from 
Para  to  the  Andes  is  capable  of  yielding  maize  enough  to 
supply  the  world,  but  the  cornfields  are  almost  entirely 
confined  to  the  small  Indian  plantations,  which  barely  suf- 

508 


SAILING  UNDER  THE  LINE 

fice  for  the  consumption  of  the  owner  and  his  family.  No- 
where do  cane,  cotton  and  cacao  grow  in  greater  luxuriance, 
and  still  their  cultivation  has  received  comparatively  little 
attention.  Great  as  was  the  fecundity  of  the  Nile  valley, 
when  it  was  the  granary  of  Rome,  that  of  the  Amazon  is 
incomparably  greater,  for  it  is  capable  of  becoming,  under 
proper  development,  the  granary  of  the  world. 

When  the  oppressive  export  laws,  that  now  obtain,  shall 
be  abolished;  when  the  foreign  steamship  monopoly,  that 
at  present  so  retards  the  march  of  commerce  in  the  Amazon 
valley,  shall  be  broken;  when  “the  colossal  traffic,  of  which 
the  whole  basin  is  susceptible,”  shall  be  thrown  open  to  fair 
competition,  which  now  exists  only  in  name ; when  European 
colonists  can  be  induced  to  make  their  homes  in  this  most 
fertile  part  of  the  globe ; and  when  foreign  capitalists  shall 
be  encouraged  to  invest  their  surplus  millions  in  developing 
the  marvelous  resources  of  this  favored  land,  then  and  not 
till  then  will  the  vast  region,  drained  by  the  great  father  of 
waters,  be  in  a fair  way  towards  justifying  the  fond  hopes 
that  have  been  so  long  entertained  respecting  its  place  in 
the  world  of  commerce  and  civilization. 

But  even  when  all  this  shall  have  been  done,  one  thing 
more  will  be  required,  before  permanent  success  can  be 
guaranteed.  Measures  will  have  to  be  taken  to  secure 
proper  sanitation  along  the  valley,  especially  in  the  larger 
cities  and  in  the  various  ports  of  call.  Yellow  fever,  which 
has  so  long  been  so  terrific  a scourge  in  Para  and  Manaos, 
will  have  to  be  stamped  out  and  all  danger  from  other 
tropical  diseases,  which  in  the  past  have  claimed  such  heavy 
life-tolls,  will  have  to  be  eliminated. 

Thanks  to  the  memorable  achievements  of  Pasteur  and 
those  who  have  followed  in  his  footsteps  in  the  United 
States,  notably  Reed,  Carroll,  Lazear  and  Agramonte,  this 
is  now  possible.  It  will  be  necessary  to  protect  man  in  his 
towns  and  camps  and  trade  routes  from  the  ravages  of  the 
stegomyia  and  anapholes,  which  have  wrought  such  havoc 
since  the  time  of  the  conquistadores.  The  stigma  that  has 

509 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


so  long  attached  to  Brazil,  of  being  Le  tombeau  des  Stran- 
gers— the  white  man’s  grave — will  have  to  he  removed. 

Much  has  already  been  accomplished  in  various  parts  of 
the  great  republic  toward  suppressing  the  dread  visitant 
that  has  so  frequently  decimated  its  fairest  cities  and  most 
important  marts.  Rio  and  Santos,  owing  to  the  prevalence 
of  yellow  fever,  were  once  veritable  death  traps  for  the 
white  man,  and  in  their  harbors  “ships  once  rotted  and  fell 
to  pieces  for  want  of  crews — all  had  died  of  the  accursed 
disease.”  To-day,  thanks  to  Dr.  Oswaldo  Cruz  and  his 
associates,  “no  one  fears,  and  no  ship  rots.” 

What  has  been  achieved  in  Rio  and  Santos  and  Havana 
and  Panama,  can  likewise  be  accomplished  in  Para  and 
Manaos  and  throughout  the  length  and  the  breadth  of  the 
Amazon  basin.  Yellow  and  malarial  fevers,  and  other  trop- 
ical diseases,  that  have  so  long  acted  as  a deterrent  to  immi- 
gration, and  which  have  so  long  retarded  the  development 
of  the  country,  can  be  eradicated  here  as  well  as  else- 
where. It  is  now  no  longer  a question  of  theory  or  experi- 
ment but  a matter  of  administration.  The  presence  of  any 
of  the  devastating  diseases  mentioned  argues  either  igno- 
rance or  criminal  negligence.  There  is  to-day  no  more 
reason  why  yellow  fever  should  still  claim  its  victims  in 
Para  and  Manaos  and  Guayaquil,  than  in  Mobile  or  New 
Orleans  or  Galveston.  Science  has  furnished  us  with  the 
means  of  successfully  coping  with  the  fell  destroyer,  and 
that  community  betrays  mal-administration  of  the  worst 
type  where  yellow  fever  is  still  allowed  to  continue  endemic. 

Col.  Gorgas,  chief  sanitary  officer  of  the  Isthmian  Canal 
Commission,  whose  successful  battles  with  yellow  and  ma- 
larial fevers  in  Havana  and  Panama  have  commanded  the 
admiration  of  the  entire  civilized  world,  in  a notable  ad- 
dress on  The  Conquest  of  the  Tropics  for  the  White  Race, 
recently  delivered  before  the  American  Medical  Association, 
expressed  himself  as  follows : 

“The  advances  in  tropical  sanitation  in  the  last  fifteen 
years  have  shown  that  the  white  man  can  live  in  the  tropics 

510 


SAILING  UNDER  THE  LINE 


and  enjoy  as  good  health  as  he  would  have  if  living  in  the 
temperate  zone.  This  has  been  demonstrated  both  by  our 
two  military  occupations  of  Cuba  and  by  our  present  occu- 
pancy of  Panama. 

“The  returns  for  labor  are  many  fold  greater  in  the  trop- 
ics than  they  are  in  the  temperate  zone.  I think,  therefore, 
that  during  the  next  few  centuries  the  tendency  will  be  for 
the  white  man  to  drift  to  the  tropics.  I dare  to  predict  that 
after  the  lapse  of  a period,  let  us  say,  equal  to  that  which 
now  separates  the  year  1909  from  the  Norman  conquest  of 
England,  localities  in  the  tropics  will  be  the  centers  of  as 
powerful  and  as  cultured  a white  civilization  as  any  that 
will  then  exist  in  the  temperate  zones. 

“I  believe  that  our  work  in  Cuba  and  Panama  will  then  be 
looked  on  as  the  earliest  demonstration  that  the  white  man 
could  flourish  in  the  tropics  and  as  the  starting-point  of  the 
effective  settlement  of  these  regions  by  the  Caucasians.” 

It  is  true  that,  thanks  to  the  efforts  of  the  Liverpool 
School  of  Tropical  Medicine,  which,  in  1905,  inaugurated  a 
vigorous  campaign  against  the  stegomyia  calopus  from  Para 
to  Iquitos,  sanitary  conditions  have  been  considerably 
ameliorated  along  the  Amazon.  But  there  is  yet  much  to 
accomplish  before  yellow  fever  shall  be  effectually  ban- 
ished. For,  during  our  brief  stay  in  Manaos  and  Para, 
there  were  several  deaths  from  the  dread  disease,  and  for- 
eigners who  were  not  immune  lived  in  constant  apprehen- 
sion of  its  recurrence  in  malignant,  epidemic  form. 

When  the  campaign  now  being  conducted  against  yellow 
fever  and  other  tropical  diseases  shall  have  been  brought  to 
a successful  issue,  and  when  the  obstacles,  above  enumer- 
ated, to  the  development  of  commerce  and  immigration  shall 
have  been  removed,  then  may  one  see  at  no  distant  future, 
at  least  a partial  verification  of  the  prediction  made  sixty 
years  ago  by  Lieutenant  Herndon,  when  he  penned  the  fol- 
lowing lines : 

“I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  I believe  in  fifty  years 
Rio  Janeiro,  without  losing  a tittle  of  her  wealth  and  great- 

511 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


ness,  will  be  a village  to  Para  and  Para  will  be  what  New 
Orleans  would  long  ago  have  been  but  for  the  activity  of 
New  York,  and  her  own  fatal  climate, — the  greatest  city  of 
the  New  World;  Santarem  will  be  St.  Louis,  and  Barra” — 
the  present  Manaos — “Cincinnati.”1 

The  French  astronomer  Flammarion,  in  his  weird  ro- 
mance— Omega:  The  Last  Days  of  the  World — makes  his 
hero  and  heroine — the  last  human  pair  on  earth — expire  at 
the  foot  of  the  pyramid  of  Cheops,  the  most  enduring  mon- 
ument of  our  race.  If  I should  venture  an  opinion  on  such 
a problematic  matter,  I should  be  disposed  to  assert  that  the 
extinction  of  human  kind  is  more  likely  to  occur  somewhere 
in  the  great  Amazon  valley,  for  it,  in  all  human  probability, 
will  be  the  last  place  on  earth  to  feel  the  touch  of  eternal 
frost,  which,  sooner  or  later,  will  hold  in  its  frigid  grip  all 
the  planets  and  suns  of  the  fathomless  universe. 

i Exploration  of  the  Valley  of  the  Amazon,  p.  367,  Washington,  1854. 


512 


CHAPTER  XXV 


HOMEWARD  BOUND 

After  leaving  Para,  my  Wanderjahr  in  the  wake  and  in 
the  footsteps  of  the  conquistadores  was  practically  at  an 
end.  Thence  onward,  until  my  arrival  in  New  York,  there 
was  little  to  be  seen  except  sea  and  sky.  I was,  of  course, 
interested  in  the  great  island  of  Marajo — larger  than  Sicily 
and  with  a greater  area  than  Massachusetts — which  lies 
between  the  estuaries  of  the  Amazon  and  the  Tocantins.  It 
is  true  that  the  greater  part  of  the  immense  Amazonian 
flood  enters  the  ocean  on  the  northern  side  of  the  island, 
but  enough  of  it  passes  through  the  southern  channel,  some- 
times called  the  Rio  Para,  to  justify  one  in  regarding  Marajo 
as  located  entirely  in  the  embouchure  of  the  Amazon.  That 
the  great  river  should  hold  in  its  embrace  an  island  of  this 
magnitude,  not  to  speak  of  others  to  the  north,  gives  one 
a vivid  conception  of  its  immensity.  Its  mouth  is  eighty 
miles  in  width,  and  so  great  is  the  volume  of  water  poured 
into  the  ocean  that  the  yellow  water  of  the  Amazon  can  be 
distinguished  from  the  blue  wave  of  the  Atlantic  at  a dis- 
tance of  more  than  fifty  miles.  But,  unlike  the  Orinoco,  the 
Nile,  the  Ganges  and  the  Mississippi,  the  Amazon,  strange 
to  say,  has  no  delta.  Its  immense  volume  of  water,  three 
times  that  of  the  Mississippi,  rolls  through  the  broad  chan- 
nels— Mar  Dulce,  sweet-water  sea — to  the  north  and  the 
south  of  Marajo,  encountering  at  virtually  a single  point 
the  opposing  will  of  the  broad  Mar  Oceano. 

We  left  the  Amazon  and  the  equator  at  almost  the  same 
moment,  for  the  northern  part  of  the  equinoctial  line  and 
the  northern  shore  of  the  great  river’s  mouth  almost  coin- 
cide. 


513 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

My  last  view  of  South  America  was  synchronous  with 
the  appearance  on  our  port  quarter  of  a magnificent  double 
rainbow.  This  was  the  third  time  during  my  journey  across 
the  continent  that  I had  been  favored  by  what  my  Peruvian 
companions  always  insisted  was  a good  omen  for  the  trav- 
eler. The  first  time  was  when  I was  leaving  the  Pacific; 
the  second  after  I had  crossed  the  Cordilleras,  and  was 
started  on  my  way  down  the  Paranapura.  If  the  view 
of  my  Andean  friends  was  correct,  a double  rainbow  should 
betoken  more  of  good  and  success  than  a single  one.  I 
loved  to  think  so  at  the  time,  and  the  happy  termination 
of  my  wanderings  a fortnight  later  more  than  realized  my 
fondest  hopes. 

As  the  hazy  coast  line  of  Amazonia  receded  from  view  and 
I realized  that  I was  leaving  behind  me  the  beauteous  con- 
tinent of  the  Southern  Cross,  I experienced  a sense  of  long- 
ing I had  never  known  before.  Longing,  however,  does  not 
wholly  express  the  feeling  that  then  took  possession  of  me, 
for  it  was  more  than  longing.  It  was  what  the  Portuguese 
call  saudade,  what  the  Germans  denominate  Sehnsucht, 
words  that  have  no  equivalent  in  English,  and  which  signify 
not  only  intense  yearning  and  regret,  but  also  sweet  remem- 
brance. I regretted  leaving  South  America,  where  I had 
spent  such  a delightful,  such  an  instructive  year,  and  would 
fain  have  returned,  if  duty  had  not  beckoned  me  homeward. 
The  Wanderlust,  which  was  strong  when  I left  New  York 
nearly  a twelvemonth  before,  far  from  being  abated,  was 
stronger  and  more  insistent  than  ever. 

I recalled  with  pleasure  the  happy  months  I had  spent 
while  contemplating  the  wonders  of  the  mountains  and 
rivers  and  forests  of  our  sister  continent  and  enjoying  the 
bounteous  hospitality  of  its  charming  and  generous  people, 
and  began  forthwith  to  make  preparations  for  a more  ex- 
tended journey  in  a land  that  possessed  so  many  and  so 
varied  attractions.  I had  seen  much,  but  much  more  re- 
mained for  another  visit. 

And  best  of  all — and  I wish  to  emphasize  specially  this 

514 


HOMEWARD  BOUND 


feature  of  my  wanderings — the  journey,  long  as  it  was,  was 
devoid  of  every  untoward  incident.  There  was  never  any 
delay  but  once,  and  that  was  because  the  steamer  on  which 
we  had  engaged  passage  had  to  be  docked  for  repairs.  But 
this  vessel  belonged  to  an  European  and  not  to  a South 
American  company.  There  was  never  any  danger  even  in 
the  wildest  and  most  untraveled  parts  of  the  country,  and 
only  once  did  I regret  that  I was  not  provided  with  fire- 
arms. That  was  on  the  Meta,  when  I saw  cloud-like  flocks 
of  wild  ducks  flying  over  our  heads,  and  had  no  means  of 
securing  a few  of  them  for  a change  of  diet.  The  people 
everywhere,  whites,  mestizos,  Indians,  were  always  kind  and 
considerate,  and  only  twice  had  I reason  to  complain  of  a 
lack  of  courtesy  and  fair  treatment,  and  that  was  at  the 
hands  of  two  supercilious  Europeans — agents  of  two  for- 
eign corporations — men  who  seemed  to  fancy  they  were 
furthering  the  interests  of  their  companies  by  resorting  to 
sharp  practices  which  they  would  never  dare  attempt  where 
condign  punishment  would  immediately  follow. 

When,  before  leaving  New  York,  I announced  my  itinerary 
to  some  friends,  whose  travels  in  South  America  had  been 
confined  to  the  places  reached  by  steamers  and  railroads, 
they  endeavored  to  dissuade  me  from  what  they  pronounced 
a rash  and  dangerous  undertaking.  They  warned  me  par- 
ticularly against  certain  parts  of  South  America  where,  they 
assured  me,  was  rampant 

“What  ever  hideous  thinge  the  earth  his  enemy 

Begets,  or  what  soever  sea  or  ayre  hath  brought  to  syght 

Both  dreadful,  dire  and  pestilent,  of  cruel,  fiercest  might.  ’ ’ 1 

But  heedless  of  the  warnings  given  me,  I went  to  the  re- 
gions that  were  pronounced  so  beset  with  danger.  And, 
while  grateful  to  my  friends  for  their  kindly  interest  in  me, 
I shall  ever  feel  that  I should  have  missed  the  most  inter- 
esting and  the  most  enjoyable  part  of  the  tropics  if  I had 
hearkened  to  their  monitions.  I found  none  of  the 

1 Seneca,  Hercules  Furens,  Act  I,  v.  30-32. 

515 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


“All  monstrous,  all  prodigious  things, 

Abominable,  unutterable  and  worse. 

p 

Gorgons,  and  hydras,  and  ehimaeras  dire,” 

which  they  imagined  would  confront  me  at  every  turn,  and 
experienced  none  of  the  hardships  which,  they  declared,  were 
inevitable. 

More  than  this,  I left  New  York  an  invalid,  and  pre- 
sumably requiring  the  conveniences  and  comforts  of  home. 
But  no  sooner  did  I begin  to  rough  it  in  the  wilds  of  the 
equatorial  regions  than  health  and  strength  returned  apace, 
and  it  was  not  long  before  every  vestige  of  illness  had  en- 
tirely disappeared. 

And  nowhere  did  I suffer  any  inconvenience  from  change 
of  climate  or  food.  Only  once  was  I incommoded  by  the 
heat,  and  that  was  when  I was  trying  to  take  a siesta  in  my 
stateroom  while  on  the  Huallaga ; and  only  once  did  I suffer 
from  the  cold.  This  was  at  the  foot  of  Chimborazo,  where 
our  train  ran  off  the  track,  and  where  we  had  to  spend  a 
chilly  night  in  a windowless  car,  with  no  means  of  heating 
it.  Although  I frequently  spent  many  days  in  succession 
on  horse  or  mule  back  in  a continual  downpour,  I never  got 
wet,  and  never  felt  any  ill-effects  from  exposure.  Of 
course,  I always  took  whatever  precautions  prudence  dic- 
tated, and  followed,  as  I should  have  done  in  my  own  coun- 
try, the  ordinary  rules  of  hygiene  in  eating  and  drinking. 
Where  I could  not  find  a clean  bed  in  the  humble  homes  of 
the  natives,  I always  had  recourse  to  my  cot  and  blankets. 
Where  the  huts  or  tambos  were  small  or  crowded,  I always 
used  my  tent,  and  in  this,  whether  on  the  summit  of  the 
Andes  or  in  the  forests  of  the  montana,  I slept  as  soundly 
as  I ever  did  in  the  downiest  couch. 

As  to  food,  I found  no  difficulty  in  satisfying  the  cravings 
of  hunger  with  the  simple  fare  prepared  for  me  by  the  na- 
tives. So  far,  indeed,  was  this  from  being  the  case,  that  I 
soon  came  to  enjoy  it.  No  one  could  have  broiled  a chicken 

516 


Forest  View  along  the  Amazon. 


Botanical  Garden,  Para.  Victoria  Regia  in  the  Foreground 


HOMEWARD  BOUND 

better  or  prepared  a better  stew  than  did  many  of  the  In- 
dian women  who  acted  as  my  cooks  during  my  peregrina- 
tions. While  traveling  in  uninhabited  districts  I drew  from 
my  own  stores  which  I always  had  with  me  for  any  emer- 
gency. These  consisted  mainly  of  crackers,  coffee,  choco- 
late, bacon — uncanned — potatoes,  cheese  and  sardines. 
Canned  goods,  as  a rule,  except  certain  cereals,  proved  a 
failure.  Whether  it  was  because  of  the  climate,  or  be- 
cause they  were  not  sufficiently  fresh  when  I purchased 
them — they  were  guaranteed  to  be  just  from  the  factory 
— I am  not  prepared  to  say.  In  most  places,  I could  get 
chickens  and  fresh  eggs,  not  to  speak  of  an  abundance  of 
fruit  of  various  kinds.  But  wherever  my  provisions  came 
from,  I never  suffered  from  hunger  more  than  a few  hours 
at  most,  and  never  found  it  necessary  to  eat  what  was  un- 
wholesome or  repulsive.  I always  carried  a good  filter 
with  me  to  insure  pure  water,  and  by  this  means  I never 
experienced  any  of  the  evil  consequences  which  result 
from  drinking  the  contaminated  waters  of  rivers  and 
streams. 

On  my  way  across  the  Andes  to  the  Amazon,  I had, 
thanks  to  a thoughtful  friend  in  Lima,  a case  of  good  old 
claret.  Nothing  during  my  long  and  arduous  ride  across 
the  Cordilleras  could  have  been  more  serviceable  or  more 
agreeable  than  this  choice  beverage.  It  was,  especially  at 
the  end  of  the  day’s  journey,  more  than  a grateful  draught 
or  stimulant.  It  was  meat  and  drink,  and  restored  at  once 
the  flagging  energy  of  myself  and  companions  and  pre- 
pared us  to  enjoy  our  frugal  evening  repast,  which  fre- 
quently was  nothing  more  than  a dish  of  chupe  or  sancocho. 
Indeed,  so  beneficial  was  it  as  a restorative  that,  if  I were 
to  make  a similar  journey  in  the  tropics,  which  is  likely, 
one  of  the  first  items  on  my  list  of  provisions  would  be  a 
case  or  two  of  generous  old  Bordeaux. 

I am  aware  that  some  of  my  readers  will  think  that  my 
experience  is  tinged  with  more  of  the  couleur  de  rose  than 
is  found  in  the  narratives  of  certain  South  American 

517 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


travelers,  but  I have  endeavored  to  give  an  honest  account 
of  persons  and  things  as  I found  them. 

Sterne,  in  his  Sentimental  Journey,  tells  of  one  Smel- 
fungus,  who  “traveled  from  Boulogne  to  Paris — from 
Paris  to  Rome,  and  so  on — but  he  set  out  with  spleen  and 
jaundice,  and  every  object  he  passed  was  discolored  or  dis- 
torted. He  wrote  an  account  of  them  but  ’twas  nothing 
but  the  account  of  his  miserable  feelings.” 

Sterne  met  this  same  Smelfungus  on  his  way  home  “and 
a sad  tale  of  sorrowful  adventures  he  had  to  tell,”  wherein 
he  spoke  of  moving  accidents  by  flood  and  field  and  of  the 
cannibals  which  each  other  eat;  the  Anthropophagi, — he 
had  been  flay’d  alive  and  bedevil ’d,  and  used  worse  than 
St.  Bartholomew  at  every  stage  he  had  come  at — 

“I’ll  tell  it,”  cried  Smelfungus,  “to  the  world.”  “You 
had  better  tell  it,”  said  I,  “to  your  physician.” 

If  the  genial  humorist  could  read  certain  books  that  have 
appeared  on  South  America,  in  which  its  people  are  tra- 
duced and  their  country  misrepresented  to  such  an  extent 
as  to  provoke  from  them  an  indignant  protest;  if  he  could 
read  of  the  dangers  from  man  and  beast,  that  are  recounted 
at  such  length,  and  of  the  extraordinary  adventures  that 
are  described,  but  which  never  had  any  existence  outside 
the  writers’  fertile  imaginations,  he  would,  I think,  be  dis- 
posed to  reiterate  for  their  behoof,  the  salutary  advice  he 
gave  Smelfungus. 

Owing  to  the  heavy  mist  that  enveloped  the  ocean,  I was 
unable  to  get  a view  of  the  Polar  Star  until  the  second 
night  after  leaving  the  equator.  This  was  the  first  time  I 
had  seen  it  for  many  months,  and  the  first  glimpse  of  it 
was  like  meeting  an  old  friend.  I knew  now  that  we  had 
left  the  southern  hemisphere  behind  us.  The  Coal-sack  and 
the  Magellanic  Clouds  are  rapidly  approaching  the  south- 
ern horizon,  and  Achernar,  Canopus  and  the  Southern  Cross, 
that  have  so  long  been  my  joy  at  night,  follow  them  pari 
passu.  The  Great  and  the  Little  Bear  rise  up  over  our 
prow,  while 


518 


HOMEWARD  BOUND 


“The  Charioteer 

And  starry  Gemini  hang  like  glorious  crowns 
Over  Orion’s  grave  low  down  in  the  west.” 

Yes,  we  are  bound  for  Niflheim,  the  home  of  fogs  and 
frosts,  but  I am  glad,  for  it  is  also  my  home,  and,  none 
too  soon  can  I reach  it,  though  happy  has  been  my  year 
in  the  land  of  flowers  and  sunshine. 

As  I have  stated,  my  memories  of  South  America  are  of 
the  pleasantest,  but  I should  have  noted  one  exception,  and 
it  is  an  important  one,  although  it  concerns  rather  my 
country  than  myself  personally. 

While  admiring  the  marvelous  resources  of  the  lands 
bordering  the  equator,  and  observing  the  enterprise  of  the 
Germans,  English,  French,  and  Italians  in  every  depart- 
ment of  industrial  and  mercantile  activity,  I could  not  but 
be  struck  by  the  backwardness  of  the  United  States,  where 
trade  opportunities  are  so  exceptional  and  where  there  is 
in  Johnsonese  phrase,  “the  potentiality  of  growing  wealthy 
beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice.”  For,  outside  of  the  flour- 
ishing corporation  of  W.  R.  Grace  & Company  and  a few 
mines  and  railways,  which  are  controlled  by  American 
capital,  the  United  States,  so  far  as  commerce  is  concerned, 
is  deplorably  inactive. 

Not  once,  south  of  the  Caribbean,  did  I ever  see  a single 
steamer  fly  the  stars  and  stripes,  except  an  armored  cruiser 
in  the  harbor  of  Callao.  All  freight  and  passenger  traffic, 
even  that  from  the  United  States,  is  controlled  by  British 
and  European  companies.  Nowhere  did  I find  an  Amer- 
ican bank.  All  financial  transactions  in  South  America 
are  in  the  hands  of  our  commercial  competitors.  The  bulk 
of  the  great  annual  trade  prize,  of  more  than  $2,000,000,000, 
goes  to  Great  Britain  and  Europe.  Our  commerce  with 
Latin- America  is  gradually  growing,  it  is  true,  but  not  by 
any  means  at  the  rate  it  should,  and  the  balance  of  trade 
is  still  enormously  against  us. 

This  deplorable  state  of  affairs  is  due,  in  part,  to  the 
fact  that  our  people  are  still  ignorant  of  the  marvelous  re- 

519 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


sources  of  our  sister  republics  and  that  they  have  not  yet 
learned  of  the  great  commercial  and  industrial  awakening 
that  is  to  mark  the  beginning  of  a new  era,  not  only  in 
South  America  but  throughout  the  entire  business  world. 

The  cycle  of  domestic  and  foreign  disturbances,  that 
have  so  long  been  a bar  to  social  and  economic  progress,  is 
being  succeeded  by  an  age  of  law  and  order,  of  mercantile 
enterprise  and  general  prosperity.  Militarism,  that  for 
generations  has  kept  the  continent  in  a ferment,  is  making 
way  for  commercialism,  and  for  just  government  by  the 
people  for  the  people.  The  “stage  of  strife  and  discord, 
of  individual  selfishness,  of  unrestrained  ambition,  of  ir- 
responsible power,”  has  had  its  day,  and  revolutionists  and 
dictators  are  everywhere  being  recognized  as  the  greatest 
foes  of  their  respective  countries,  and  their  ambitious 
schemes  are,  therefore,  promptly  suppressed. 

Vexatious  boundary  disputes  are  now  referred  to  arbi- 
tration, while  other  controversies  are  settled  through 
diplomatic  channels,  quite  as  satisfactorily  as  among 
European  nations.  And  such  settlements,  it  has  been  ob- 
served, are  always  followed  by  a more  rapid  development 
of  domestic  industry  and  foreign  commerce.  The  foreign 
trade  of  Argentina  amounting  to  $700,000,000  and  the  com- 
merce of  the  other  republics  aggregating  a much  larger 
sum,  all  make  strongly  for  peace,  and  inspire  a feeling  of 
confidence  among  foreign  investors  that  before  was  quite 
unknown.  Other  important  peace  agencies  are  the  frequent 
Pan-American  congresses,  and,  above  all,  the  Pan-American 
Union,  whose  headquarters  are  in  Washington. 

As  a consequence  of  this  immense  change  for  the  better, 
immigration  is  pouring  into  certain  sections  of  South 
America  at  the  rate  of  several  hundred  thousand  a year, 
and  it  will  not  be  long  until  this  beneficent  wave  shall  have 
spread  over  the  entire  continent.  Foreign  capital,  in  im- 
mense amounts,  is  annually  flowing  into  the  greater  num- 
ber of  the  republics,  where  it  is  as  fully  safeguarded,  and 
where  the  returns  from  it  are  as  gratifying,  as  they  are 

520 


HOMEWARD  BOUND 


certain.  That  such  is  the  case  is  evidenced  by  the  untold 
millions  that  European  investors  are  annually  placing  in 
the  mines  and  railroads,  and  in  the  countless  industries 
that  are  springing  up  in  every  direction.  It  is  shown  by 
the  rapid  growth  of  such  cities  as  Rio  Janeiro,  which  now 
counts  nearly  a million  inhabitants  and  Buenos  Aires, 
which  is  growing  more  rapidly  than  any  metropolis  in  the 
United  States,  except  Chicago  and  New  York,  and  which, 
after  Paris,  is  the  largest  Latin  city  in  the  world. 

From  present  indications,  the  development  of  South 
America  will  be  as  great  during  the  twentieth  century  as 
that  of  the  United  States  during  the  nineteenth.  England 
sees  this,  Germany,  France  and  Italy  see  it,  and  have  shown 
their  faith  in  the  future  of  the  republics  south  of  the  Carib- 
bean by  investing  not  millions  but  billions  for  the  develop- 
ment of  their  exhaustless  resources.1  Even  far-off  Japan 
sees  it,  and,  to  make  sure  of  her  share  of  the  rapidly  in- 
creasing trade  of  this  newly-awakened  continent,  which  has 
more  than  two  and  a half  times  the  area  of  the  United 
States,  she  has  established  a line  of  steamers  between  the 
ports  of  Nippon  and  those  of  western  Latin-America. 
James  G.  Blaine,  that  gifted,  resourceful  organizer  of  the 
first  Pan-American  Congress,  who  was  able  to  project  the 
historian’s  knowledge  into  the  statesman’s  comprehension 
of  the  future,  saw  it,  and  left  nothing  undone  to  render 
his  hopes  a reality.  Roosevelt  and  Root  saw  it  when  they 
championed  ship  subsidies  in  order  to  meet  similar  sub- 
sidies paid  by  the  principal  maritime  nations  of  the  world 
to  enable  our  commercial  competitors  to  operate  their 
steamship  lines  at  a profit.2 

1 It  is  estimated  that  more  than  $800,000,000  of  American  capital  is  now 
invested  in  Mexico.  There  is  still  room  in  South  America,  in  places  where 
securities  are  gilt-edged,  for  many  times  this  amount. 

2 The  total  amount  of  the  subsidies  annually  paid  by  our  commercial  com- 
petitors to  their  steamship  lines  is  about  $28,000,000,  a large  part  of  which 
goes  to  the  lines  engaged  in  South  American  trade.  Obviously  the  only 
way  for  the  United  States,  in  the  face  of  such  conditions  to  secure  her  share 
of  traffic,  is  to  have  her  own  lines  of  steamers  and  meet  subsidy  by  subsidy 

521 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


Mr.  Root  observes  with  truth  that  “We  are  living  in  a 
world  not  of  natural  but  of  subsidized  competition.  State 
aid  to  steamship  lines  is  as  much  a part  of  the  commercial 
system  of  our  day  as  state  employment  of  consuls  to  pro- 
mote business.’  ’ 

President  Roosevelt  in  his  message  to  Congress  in 
November,  1905,  declared  that  “To  the  spread  of  our 
trade  in  peace  and  the  defense  of  our  flag  in  war  a great 
and  prosperous  merchant  marine  is  indispensable.  We 
should  have  ships  of  our  own  and  seamen  of  our  own  to 
convey  our  goods  to  neutral  markets,  and  in  case  of  need 
to  reinforce  our  battle  line.  It  cannot  but  be  a source  of 
regret  and  uneasiness  to  us  that  the  lines  of  communication 
with  our  sister  republics  of  South  America  should  be 
chiefly  under  foreign  control.  It  is  not  a good  thing  that 
American  merchants  and  manufacturers  should  have  to 
send  their  goods  and  letters  via  Europe  if  they  wish  security 
and  dispatch.”  1 

But,  in  order  that  the  United  States  may  act  a becoming 
role  in  the  great  commercial  and  industrial  movements  that 
have  been  inaugurated  in  South  America,  in  order  that  she 
may  secure  proper  representation  in  the  great  enterprises 
that  are  so  rapidly  multiplying  in  every  sphere  of  material 
development,  in  order  that  she  may  exert  the  influence  and 
enjoy  the  prestige  that  comports  with  her  position  among 
the  great  nations  of  the  world,  it  is  not  sufficient  that  she 
have  well-organized  banks  in  all  the  great  cities,  and  fast, 
commodious  steamers  to  all  the  principal  ports.  These 
agencies,  necessary  as  they  are,  must  be  followed  up  by 
cultivating  intimacy  and  friendship  with  our  Latin-Amer- 
ican  neighbors,  if  we  would  successfully  overcome  the  handi- 
cap due  to  differences  of  lineage  and  language.  Our  inter- 
course with  them  must  be  more  frequent,  our  knowledge 
of  their  manners  and  customs  and  traditions  must  be  more 
complete,  our  understanding  of  their  wants  and  methods 

i Presidential  Addresses  and  State  Papers,  Part  IV,  p.  623-24.  Cf.  also 
Part  V,  p.  1109  et  seq.  and  1120  et  seq. 

522 


HOMEWARD  BOUND 


of  transacting  business  more  perfect,  while  at  the  same  time 
a mutual  sympathy  between  the  Spanish- American  and  the 
Anglo-American  must  be  cultivated  that  shall  be  in  the 
language  of  Blaine,  “as  broad  as  both  continents.” 

Mr.  Boot,  in  his  memorable  journey  to  South  America  in 
1906,  did  more  to  remove  the  suspicions  and  apprehensions 
that  have  long  been  entertained  in  certain  parts  of  the 
southern  continent  about  the  Yankee  Peril  and  the  Yankee 
Colossus  than  could  have  been  accomplished  by  half  a 
century  of  diplomacy.  He  effectually  dispelled  the  idea,  so 
long  prevalent  in  South  America,  that  “our  assertion  of 
the  Monroe  Doctrine  implied  or  carried  with  it  an  assump- 
tion of  superiority  and  of  a right  to  exercise  some  kind  of 
protectorate  over  the  countries  to  whose  territory  the 
doctrine  applies.  ’ ’ In  stirring  words,  that  should  be  graven 
on  tablets  of  gold  in  every  legislative  hall  in  the  Pan- 
American  Union,  he  assured  the  delegates  assembled  at  the 
third  conference  held  at  Rio  Janeiro  that  “We  wish  for 
no  victories  but  those  of  peace;  for  no  territory  except 
our  own,  for  no  sovereignty  except  the  sovereignty  over 
ourselves.  We  deem  the  independence  and  equal  rights  of 
the  smallest  and  weakest  member  of  the  family  of  nations 
entitled  to  as  much  respect  as  those  of  the  greatest  empire, 
and  we  deem  the  observance  of  that  respect  the  chief 
guaranty  against  the  oppression  of  the  strong.  We  neither 
claim  nor  desire  any  rights  or  privileges  or  powers  that  we 
do  not  freely  concede  to  every  American  republic.  We 
wish  to  increase  our  prosperity,  to  extend  our  trade,  to 
grow  in  wealth,  in  wisdom,  and  in  spirit,  but  our  concep- 
tion of  the  true  way  to  accomplish  this  is  not  to  pull  down 
others  and  profit  by  their  ruin,  but  to  help  all  friends  to  a 
common  prosperity  and  a common  growth,  that  we  may  all 
become  greater  and  stronger  together.” 

Shortly  after  his  return  to  the  United  States,  in  a notable 
address  before  the  Trans-Mississippi  Commercial  Congress, 
on  Commercial  Relations  with  South  America,  Mr.  Root 
made  an  equally  important  pronouncement  for  the  en- 

523 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 

lightenment  and  guidance  of  our  people  respecting  the  re- 
sources and  inhabitants  of  our  sister  continent,  in  which, 
among  other  things,  he  stated,  in  words  which  should  never 
be  forgotten  by  our  merchants  or  government  officials,  that 
“The  material  resources  of  South  America  are  in  some  im- 
portant respects  complementary  to  our  own;  that  conti- 
nent is  weakest  where  North  America  is  strongest  as  a field 
for  manufacturers ; it  has  comparatively  little  coal  or  iron. 
In  many  respects  the  people  of  the  two  continents  are 
complementary  to  each  other ; the  South  American  is  polite, 
refined,  cultivated,  fond  of  literature  and  of  expression 
and  of  the  graces  and  the  charms  of  life,  while  the  North 
American  is  strenuous,  intense,  utilitarian.  Where  we  ac- 
cumulate, they  spend.  While  we  have  less  of  the  cheerful 
philosophy  which  finds  sources  of  happiness  in  the  existing 
conditions  of  life,  they  have  less  of  the  inventive  faculty 
which  strives  continually  to  increase  the  productive  power 
of  man  and  lower  the  cost  of  manufacture.  The  chief 
merits  of  the  peoples  of  the  two  continents  are  different, 
their  chief  defects  are  different.  Mutual  intercourse  and 
knowledge  can  not  fail  to  greatly  benefit  both.  Each  can 
learn  from  the  other;  each  can  teach  much  to  the  other, 
and  each  can  contribute  greatly  to  the  development  and 
prosperity  of  the  other.  A large  part  of  their  products 
find  no  domestic  competition  here ; a large  part  of  our  prod- 
ucts will  find  no  domestic  competition  there.  The  typical 
conditions  exist  for  that  kind  of  trade  which  is  profitable, 
honorable  and  beneficial  to  both  parties.” 

No  statements  could  have  been  more  timely  or  could  ex- 
press more  clearly  what  should  be  the  attitude  of  our  coun- 
try towards  the  republics  of  South  America  than  the  two 
just  quoted.  In  these  President  Roosevelt’s  brilliant  am- 
bassador of  peace  to  the  southern  continent  has  indicated 
how  the  different  nations  of  the  western  hemisphere  can 
advance  one  another’s  interests  without  jeopardizing  their 
own,  how  the  prosperity  and  happiness  of  each  can  be 
furthered  by  all  working  in  unity  and  harmony. 

524 


HOMEWARD  BOUND 


This  is  the  psychological  moment  for  the  United  States 
to  be  up  and  doing;  the  time  for  her  to  grasp  the  golden 
opportunities  that  now  present  themselves  in  every  de- 
partment of  human  endeavor,  and  to  secure  those  points 
of  vantage  in  the  great  centers  of  trade  and  industry  that 
are  so  essential  for  her  success  in  the  future. 

We  are  no  longer  the  debtor  nation  that  we  have  been 
for  so  many  decades.  Our  foreign  obligations  have  been 
met  and  we  are  now  in  a position  to  invest  a portion  of  our 
rapidly  accumulating  surplus  outside  of  our  own  country. 
Nowhere  shall  we  find  a better  outlet  for  excess  capital  than 
in  South  America.  Everywhere  there  are  electric  and 
steam  railways  to  be  built,  telegraph  and  telephone  systems 
to  be  inaugurated,  water  and  electric  power  plants  to  be 
erected,  factories  and  docks  to  be  constructed,  agricultural 
and  stock-raising  enterprises  to  be  developed,  mines  of 
iron  and  copper  and  tin,  of  silver,  gold  and  diamonds  to  be 
exploited,  and  other  industries,  too  numerous  to  mention, 
but  certain  to  yield  good  dividends,  to  be  financed.  And 
lastly,  but  probably  the  most  important  undertaking  of  all, 
there  is  the  great  Pan-American  railroad — that  matchless 
thoroughfare — to  be  completed,  which  is  to  unite  the  two 
continents  by  bands  of  steel  and  make  it  possible  for  one 
to  travel  in  a Pullman  car  from  New  York  to  Buenos  Aires. 

Merchants  and  capitalists  cannot  begin  too  soon  their 
campaign  to  secure  their  share  of  the  enormous  and  rapidly 
growing  trade  of  South  America.  They  should  be  prepared 
in  time  by  the  establishment  of  banks,  and  mercantile 
houses  and  fast  steamship  lines  to  reap  all  the  advantages 
that  will  accrue  to  them  from  the  opening  of  the  Panama 
Canal,  which  is  destined  to  revolutionize  the  trade  routes 
of  the  world  and  put  the  Pacific  coast  of  South  America 
within  easy  reach  of  our  Atlantic  and  Gulf  ports.  If  our 
merchants  and  bankers  were  to  exhibit  a tithe  of  the  enter- 
prise and  perseverance  and  diplomacy  which  have  made  the 
Germans  so  prominent  in  every  one  of  the  South  American 
republics,  if  our  statesmen  were  to  display  the  wisdom  and 

525 


ALONG  THE  ANDES  AND  DOWN  THE  AMAZON 


initiative  and  foresight  of  Bismarck  and  William  II,  who 
have  built  up  a merchant-marine  that  is  unrivaled,  and  ex- 
tended the  commerce  of  the  Vaterland  to  every  corner  of 
the  globe,  we  could  entertain  the  hope  of  being  able  to 
retrieve  the  losses  we  have  suffered  by  having  our  trade 
carried  in  foreign  bottoms,  and  of  regaining  the  prestige 
that  was  ours  when  the  stars  and  stripes  fluttered  on  every 
sea,  and  when  our  ships  carried  over  ninety  per  cent,  of  our 
export  trade,  instead  of  the  insignificant  nine  per  cent,  which 
it  carries  to-day. 

It  was  a year,  almost  to  the  hour,  from  the  time  I left 
home  until  I caught  the  first  glimpse  of  the  Statue  of 
Liberty  in  New  York  harbor,  on  my  return  from  the  land 
of  palms  and  perpetual  summer.  I had  visited  all  the  lands, 
and  more,  which  I purposed  seeing  on  setting  out  on  my 
long  journey  through  the  untraveled  and  little  known  re- 
gions bordering  the  equator.  And  without  haste  and  with- 
out difficulty,  I had  been  able  to  make  it  in  the  time  I had 
allowed  myself  before  my  departure.  I left  home  as  an 
invalid  seeking  health  and  recreation.  I found  both,  and 
returned  to  my  own  with  health  restored  and  with  a greater 
capacity  for  work  than  I had  known  for  years.  Naturally 
I was  gratified  with  my  success — gratified  not  only  that 
I had  accomplished  what  I had  set  out  to  do  in  a given  time, 
but  gratified  also  that  I had  thereby  proved  that  one  may 
traverse  even  the  wildest  and  least  populated  parts  of 
South  America  with  comparative  ease  and  comfort. 

But  much  as  I had  enjoyed  every  hour  of  my  Wandertage, 
happy  as  I had  always  been  in  the  contemplation  of  the  sub- 
lime and  the  beautiful  on  Andean  heights  and  in  Amazonian 
plains,  grateful  as  were  the  balmy  breezes  and  delicate  per- 
fumes of  the  equinoctial  regions,  where  at  times  I fancied 
I would  fain  tarry  forever,  still  I was  never  so  delighted 
to  return  to  the  land  of  my  birth  as  on  this  occasion. 

As  at  the  time  of  my  departure  a twelvemonth  before, 
so  now  also  was  New  York  in  the  grip  of  the  Frost  King, 
and  all  nature  seemed  to  be  dead.  But  the  contrast  with 

526 


HOMEWARD  BOUND 


all  I had  left  behind  me  but  two  weeks  previously  appealed 
to  me  in  a singular  manner,  and  made  me  realize,  as  never 
before  bow  pleasurable  is  the  recurrent  change  of  seasons 
in  our  northern  latitudes  as  compared  with  the  uniformity 
of  climate  in  the  tropics  which,  in  spite  of  the  splendid 
luxuriance  and  endless  variety  of  plant-life,  becomes  at 
times  so  monotonous  as  to  be  almost  oppressive.  The  leaf- 
less trees  and  the  snow-covered  ground  possessed  for  me 
unwonted  beauty;  the  arctic  blasts  that  lashed  the  ocean 
into  foam,  gave  forth  a music  which,  until  then,  I had  never 
recognized.  And  as  I stood  forward  on  the  upper  deck, 
while  we  were  steaming  into  the  great  city’s  harbor,  where 
loving  hearts  were  awaiting  me,  I was  minded  of  Petrarch’s 
return  home,  after  a long  absence,  and  of  his  noble  apos- 
trophe to  his  country,  so  apt  now  to  express  my  own 
sentiments : 

“Hail,  land  beloved  of  God,  0 holiest,  bail! 

To  good  men  safe,  a menace  to  the  proud; 

Land  of  the  great,  the  shores  more  gracious  far, 

More  rich  of  soil,  more  beautiful  than  all ; 

Girt  with  twin  seas,  famed  for  thy  gleaming  mount, 

Of  arms  and  peaceful  laws  the  holy  shrine; 

Pierian  home,  with  wealth  of  gold  and  men, 

Nature  and  art  united  on  thee  pour 

Their  gifts,  making  thee  mistress  of  the  world. 

To  thee  at  last  I yearningly  return, 

Still,  still  thy  citizen. 

Thee,  fatherland,  I own  and  greet  with  joy, 

Hail,  beauteous  Mother,  pride  of  nations,  hail!” 


527 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


PARTIAL  LIST  OP  THE  WORKS  CITED  IN  THIS  VOLUME 

Acosta,  Padre  Jose  de.  Historia  natural  y moral  de  las  Indias. 
Sevilla,  1590.  Translated  into  English  in  1604  by  Grimston. 

Agassiz,  Professor  and  Mrs.  Louis.  A Journey  in  Brazil.  Bos- 
ton, 1868. 

Ameghino,  F.  Antiguedad  del  Hombre  en  El  Plata.  Buenos 
Aires,  1880. 

Amich,  Fray  Jose.  Compendio  Historico  de  los  Trabajos  de  la 
Serafica  Religion  en  las  Montanas  del  Peru.  Paris,  1854. 

Andgrand,  M.  Le.  Lettre  sur  les  Antiquites  de  Tiaguanaco  et 
P Origine  Presumable  de  la  plus  Ancienne  Civilization  du 
Haut-Perou.  Paris,  1866. 

Anglerius,  Petrus  Martyr.  De  nouo  orbe,  or  the  historie  of  the 
West  Indies,  contayning  the  actes  and  aduentures  of  the 
Spanyardes,  which  haue  conquered  and  peopled  those  coun- 
tries, inriched  with  varitie  of  pleasant  relation  of  the  manners, 
ceremonies,  lawes,  gouernments,  and  warres  of  the  Indians. 
Comprised  in  8 decades.  Written  by  Peter  Martyr  a Mil- 
lanoise  of  Angleria,  chiefe  secretary.  Whereof  three,  haue 
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534 


INDEX 


A 

Acuna,  Padre,  strange  silence  of, 
regarding  the  Franciscan  explo- 
rations of  the  Amazon,  481; 
teratological  extravagances  of, 
482 

Aguirre,  Lope  de,  extraordinary 
character  of  expedition  of,  475; 
first  European  to  reach  the  Ori- 
noco from  the  Amazon  by  way 
of  the  Cassiquiare,  476,  477 ; 
tragic  death  of  himself  and 
daughter,  478,  479 

Alvarado,  Alonzo  de,  one  of  the 
most  humane  of  the  conquista- 
dores,  470 

Amazon  river,  463  et  seq.;  immen- 
sity of,  464;  annual  inundations 
of,  465;  divers  names  of,  466, 
468;  source  of,  as  recently  deter- 
mined by  Dr.  Sievers,  466 ; a 
fresh  water  ocean  with  an  archi- 
pelago of  islands,  492,  493;  ero- 
sive action  of,  498 ; mouth  of, 
513 

Amazon  valley,  upper,  present  con- 
dition of,  but  little  changed  since 
Orellana’s  time,  485;  decrease  in 
population  of,  486 ; offers  room 
for  explorers  for  ages  to  come, 
487 ; varzeas  of,  492 ; igarapes  of, 
493;  wonderful  variety  of  palms 
in,  493;  Indian  villages  in,  494; 
meteorological  phenomena  in,  and 


temperature  of,  497,  498;  variety 
of  valuable  woods  in  and  slight 
importation  from,  500,  501;  se- 
ringueiro  huts  in,  504;  remark- 
able fertility  and  future  prosper- 
ity of,  508,  509 ; sanitation  of, 
509,  511 

A.mazonia  province,  complex  popu- 
lation of,  502 

Amazons,  female  warriors,  described 
by  the  early  chroniclers,  481 ; 
Padre  Acuna  on,  482 
Ambato,  markets  and  fairs  of,  82 
America,  North  and  South,  compli- 
mentary, 524 

Americans,  meaning  of  word  in 
South  America,  99 
Andenes,  description  of,  129 
A.ndes,  appearance  of,  123;  Pres- 
cott’s error  regarding,  124;  re- 
stricted meaning  of  word,  168 
Apachitas,  origin  and  significance 
of,  366,  368 

Arequipa,  city  of,  143  et  seq.;  hos- 
pitality of  people  of,  143 ; schools 
and  scholars  of,  144,  145 
Atahualpa,  ransom-house  of,  334; 
prison  of,  335;  execution  of,  335 
et  seq.;  character  of,  338 
Atienza,  Ines  de,  tragic  death  of, 
469,  470 

Aymara,  Indians,  166  et  seq.;  a 
love  song  of,  176 ; as  distin- 
guished from  the  Quichuas,  202 

535 


INDEX 


B 

Bananas,  abundance  and  variety  of, 
in  tropics,  495 
Bats,  blood-sucking,  377,  378 
Bellacazar,  Sebastian,  achievements 
of,  54,  70;  remarkable  interview 
of,  with  Alvarado  and  Almagro, 
71,  72;  his  quest  of  El  Dorado, 
98 

Brazil-nut  tree,  size  of,  465 
Brieva,  Fray  Domingo,  achieve- 
ments of,  as  an  explorer  of  the 
Amazon,  477,  478,  480,  481 
Butterflies,  large  and  beautiful,  387 ; 
mimicry  and  extraordinary  num- 
ber of  species  of,  in  tropics,  388 

C 

Cacao,  barometer  of  Ecuador’s  com- 
mercial standing,  61 
Cajamarca,  delightful  location  of, 

314,  315 ; charming  people  in, 

315,  316;  tragedy  of,  335  et  seq., 
345,  346 

Canal  between  the  Atlantic  and  the 
Pacific,  14;  Gomara  and  Acosta 
on,  14,  15;  estimate  of,  oy  Hum- 
boldt, 16 ; Goethe’s  prophetic  view 
of,  17;  and  President  Roosevelt, 
12,  19 ; earthquakes  along,  20 ; 
sanitation  of,  21,  24 
Canal  Zone,  salubrity  of,  24;  equa- 
ble temperature  of,  24;  earth- 
quakes in,  20 

Capac,  Manco,  first  appearance  of, 
156-159 

Cargueros,  strength  of,  403 
Carvajal,  Fray  Gaspar  de,  chaplain 
of  Orellana  (discoverer  of  the 
Amazon),  and  chronicler  of  the 
expedition,  472;  his  account  of 


Orellana’s  wonderful  achieve- 
ment, 473,  474 

Casa  Grande,  great  sugar  planta- 
tion of,  289  et  seq. 

Celendin,  town  of,  354,  350;  “Pan- 
ama hats”  of,  350 

Chachapoyas,  location  and  prefect 
of,  371,  372 

Chagres  river,  floods  of,  6 
Chicama  valley,  fertility  and  cli- 
mate of,  290,  291 
Chimborazo,  view  of,  69;  first  as- 
cent of,  70;  experience  at  base 
of,  80,  81,  as  seen  from  Guaya- 
quil, 109,  110 

Chimu,  the  Great,  265  et  seq.;  ruins 
of,  272;  huacas  in,  and  their  con- 
tents, 273,  274;  beautiful  pottery 
of,  274;  concealed  treasures  in, 
275,  278;  antiquity  of,  278,  279; 
questions  suggested  by,  279  et  seq. 
Chuno,  as  article  of  food,  202,  206 
Chupe,  preparation  of,  202 
Cicada,  a remarkable  species  of,  381 
Clara,  Santa,  island  of,  44,  45 
Cloud  effects  in  Andes,  beauty  of, 
299,  375,  376 

Coast,  rainless,  of  Pern  and  Chile, 
119,  120 ; explanation  of,  121, 
122;  irrigation  in,  123 
Coca,  Erythroxylon,  cultivation  and 
use  of,  177  et  seq.;  Acosta  on, 
179 ; remarkable  properties  of, 
180,  183;  as  an  aliment,  206;  as 
an  anaesthetic,  206,  207 
Colon,  town  of,  described,  3-5 
Columbus,  Christopher,  and  the  “Se- 
cret of  the  Strait,”  12;  ports  on 
Caribbean  named  after,  12 
Conquistadores,  motives  of,  in  their 
campaigns,  454,  455 ; patriotism 
and  love  of  glory  of,  455 
Contumaza,  town  of,  305 


536 


INDEX 


Copacabana,  sanctuary  of,  160,  169 
Cordilleras,  the,  as  seen  from  the 
river  Guayas,  47,  48;  significance 
of  word,  168,  302 ; alleged  low 
temperature  of,  312;  temperature 
of  at  Puna-pishgo-guayuna,  352; 
beautiful  view  in,  365,  366;  tem- 
perature at  Calla-Calla,  368 
Corporation,  Peruvian,  railroads  of, 
127  et  seq. 

Cortes,  Hernando,  first  to  propose  a 
canal  between  the  Atlantic  and 
the  Pacific,  14 

Costa,  La,  meaning  of  term,  301 
Cotopaxi,  volcano  of,  85;  eruptions 
of,  85  et  seq.;  catastrophes  caused 
by,  86,  88;  view  of,  90,  91,  96,  97 
Couriers,  Inca,  fleetness  of,  214 
Current,  Humboldt,  effects  of,  122, 
123 

Cuzco,  city  of,  216  et  seq.;  another 
Rome,  216,  217,  220,  238,  241; 
former  social  and  political  impor- 
tance of,  217;  cathedral  of,  218; 
famous  churches  of,  218,  219 ; 
temple  of  the  Sun,  riches  of,  219; 
fortress  of,  225,  228;  view  from, 
237,  238 ; former  and  present 
population  of,  239,  241 ; future 
of,  240,  241 

D 

Dugout,  Indian,  description  of,  and 
crew  of,  423,  425 

E 


of  Humboldt  current  on,  42,  43; 
short  twilight  at,  40 
Era,  new,  dawn  of,  in  South  Amer- 
ica, 520 

Escort,  my,  tribute  to,  491 
F 

Fauna,  in  tropical  forests,  incon- 
spicuousness of,  410,  411;  errors 
regarding,  411,  413 
Fireflies,  remarkable,  308 
Fish,  extraordinary  number  of  spe- 
cies of,  in  the  Amazon,  506 
Fish,  flying,  43 

Flor,  la,  del  Espiritu  Santo,  8 
Floral  exhibitions  in  the  tropics, 
358,  370,  383,  408,  433,  434; 
comparative  rarity  of,  409,  410 
Forest,  the  tropical,  peculiarities  of, 
398  et  seq.;  gloom  and  silence  in, 
414;  extraordinary  numbers  and 
variety  of  plant  species  of,  415; 
tragedies  in,  416;  struggle  for  ex- 
istence in,  416-418;  processes  of 
flower  fertilization  in,  419 ; at- 
tractions of,  418-420 
Franciscans,  the,  labors  of,  among 
the  Indians,  327 ; as  explorers 
and  colonizers,  458,  477  et  seq.; 
momentous  results  which  followed 
their  voyages  up  and  down  the 
Amazon,  480  et  seq. 

Fritz,  Padre,  and  his  labors,  459 

G 


Earthquakes  in  the  Canal  Zone,  20;  Garua,  cause  of,  122;  peculiar  phe- 
in  Ecuador,  51,  76,  77 ; at  Are-  nomenon  of,  129 
quipa,  147,  148  Godin,  Madame,  adventures  of,  on 

Equator,  crossing  the,  38-43;  low  the  Napo  and  the  Amazon,  483 

temperature  of  on  west  coast  of  et  seq.;  awful  experiences  of,  in 

South  America,  42,  43 ; influence  the  wilderness,  484,  485 

537 


INDEX 


Gorgas,  Col.,  on  sanitation  of  the 
Canal  Zone,  21-23 

Guano,  how  produced,  and  value 
of,  135,  136;  Inca  legislation  re- 
garding, 137 

Guayaquil,  city  of,  49  et  seq.;  com- 
mercial importance  of,  53;  un- 
sanitary condition  of,  52  et  seq.; 
foundation  of,  54;  Guayaquil  and 
Quito  Railway,  56  et  seq. 

H 

Huallaga,  river,  steamers  on,  439; 
Indian  missions  along,  440  et  seq. 

Humboldt,  Alexander,  on  the  Isth- 
mian Canal,  16,  20 

Humming  birds,  387 

I 

Incas,  cradle  of,  152 ; wealth  of, 
220,  223;  wise  men  among,  231; 
chronicles  of,  231,  232;  language 
and  literature  of,  232  et  seq.; 
acequias  of,  290,  293-295;  civili- 
zation of,  339  et  seq.;  distin- 
guished descendants  of,  344;  an 
Inca  musician,  263,  264 

Indians  of  Ecuador,  character  of, 
94,  95;  of  Bolivia,  honesty  of, 
166,  167 ; at  arrival  of  Spaniards, 
conquistador’s  statement  concern- 
ing, 167 ; trustworthiness  of,  316, 
317 ; family  of,  in  Sierra,  335, 
336;  gratitude  of,  380;  boatmen 
of,  425;  home  of,  on  the  Parana- 
pura,  426,  428;  effect  of  kindness 
on,  427 ; simple  life  and  love  of 
freedom  of,  429  et  seq.;  charac- 
teristics of,  431,  432;  amalgama- 
tion of,  with  Europeans,  445,  446 ; 
Raynal  on  civilization  of  mission, 
446;  legislation  in  favor  of,  in 


Spanish  America,  448  et  seq.; 
why  this  legislation  was  not  al- 
ways effective,  449,  450;  the  con- 
version of,  a predominant  motive 
of  the  Spaniards  in  their  con- 
quests, 454;  Kingsley  on  the  de- 
scendants of,  and  Europeans,  456 ; 
distinguished  half-castes,  457 
Investment,  opportunities  for,  in 
South  America,  521,  526 
Iquitos,  importance  of,  as  a com- 
mercial center  in  the  upper  Ama- 
zon region,  488-490;  cosmopoli- 
tan character  of  people  of,  490 
Irrigation  in  Peru,  123,  139,  141, 
294 

J 

Jew,  A Wandering,  502,  503,  507, 
508 

L 

Latacunga,  description  of,  85;  fre- 
quent destruction  of,  by  earth- 
quakes, 85;  drawbacks  of,  91 
League,  as  unit  of  distance  in  South 
America,  300,  301 
Leymebamba,  reception  at,  369,  370 
Light,  zodiacal,  near  equator,  126, 
127 

Lima,  city  of,  242  et  seq.;  founda- 
tion of,  by  Pizarro,  244,  245; 
plaza  mayor  of,  246 ; cathedral 
of,  247 ; other  churches  of,  251, 
252;  saints  of,  252;  as  a center 
of  learning  and  culture,  254  et 
seq.;  learned  societies,  museum 
and  library  of,  256-261 
Llamas,  as  described  by  Peter  Mar- 
tyr, 65;  value  of,  176;  burdens 
carried  by,  177 

Lumber,  shipment  of,  from  the 


538 


INDEX 


United  States  to  the  Amazon  val- 
ley, and  the  peculiar  reason  for 
it,  499,  501 

M 

Madeira  river,  prospective  impor- 
tance of,  as  fluvial  highway,  501, 
502 

Maize,  tri-annual  crops  of,  385 ; 
worshiped  by  ancient  Peruvians, 
495 

Man,  antiquity  of,  in  Peru,  285  et 
seq. 

Manaos,  city  of,  491,  498;  impor- 
tance of,  as  a rubber  emporium, 
499 

Manioc,  meat  and  drink  of  natives 
of  equatorial  regions,  495 

Maranon,  first  view  of,  357,  358; 
experience  near,  359  et  seq.;  scen- 
ery along,  361 

Matachin,  meaning  of  name,  9 

Medanos,  form  and  peculiarities  of, 
141 

Melgar,  Mariano,  yaravies  of,  144, 
145 

Mines,  silver  and  gold,  in  Bolivia 
and  Peru,  183,  184 

Missionaries  among  Indians,  as  por- 
trayed by  the  poet  Southey,  442; 
authors  under  peculiar  difficulties, 
442;  their  forest  homes  and  their 
spirit  of  sacrifice,  443,  444;  ac- 
complish what  neither  Inca  nor 
Spanish  arms  were  competent  to 
achieve,  445;  love  of,  for  their 
neophites,  446,  447 ; missionary 
explorers,  chroniclers  and  map- 
makers,  458  et  seq.;  antedate  by 
centuries  the  labors  of  modem  ex- 
plorers, 460;  value  of  their  books 
and  manuscripts,  461 

Missions,  Indian,  along  the  Hualla- 


ga,  440  et  seq.;  difficulties  of,  by 
reason  of  the  numerous  and  per- 
plexing languages  and  dialects  of 
the  aborigines,  441,  442;  and  by 
reason  of  the  manner  of  life  of 
the  natives  and  the  machinations 
of  their  medicine  men,  443,  444; 
homes  of  peaceful  and  happy 
Indians,  and  centers  where  flour- 
ished the  arts  of  civilized  life, 
444,  445;  suppressed  by  Charles 
III,  451,  452 ; present  languishing 
condition  of,  452,  453 
Misti,  Mount,  beauty  of,  and  rav- 
ages caused  by,  147,  148 
Mollendo,  roadstead  of,  138,  139 
Montana,  meaning  of  word,  301 ; 
roads  in,  372,  373;  fertility  of, 
391 

Monte  Alegre,  beauty  of,  as  seen 
from  the  Amazon,  504,  505 
Montesinos,  Fernando  de,  chronol- 
ogy of,  194;  on  ancestors  of 
Peruvians,  228,  229 ; on  ancient 
Peruvian  alphabet,  231,  232,  282 
Moreno,  Garcia,  achievements  of, 
56,  57 ; highway  constructed  by, 
93,  94 ; inaugurates  railroads, 

106;  founder  of  schools  and  col- 
leges, 106;  great  astronomical  ob- 
servatory of,  107 ; character,  ca- 
reer and  tragic  death  of,  107,  108 
Morgan,  Henry,  at  Yenta  Cruz,  10 

N 

Nombre  de  Dios,  once  “The  Treas- 
ure House  of  the  World,”  2 
Nunez  de  Balboa,  Yasco,  discoverer 
of  the  South  Sea,  1 et  seq.;  route 
across  Isthmus  of  Panama,  2 ; 
discoverer  of  the  Pearl  islands  of 
the  South  Sea,  30;  takes  posses- 
sion of  the  Pacific,  32,  35 


INDEX 


0 

Observatory,  astronomical,  of  Quito, 
106,  107 ; at  Arequipa,  146 

Ocllo,  Mama,  questions  regarding, 
157-59 

Orchids,  abundance  and  beauty  of, 
358,  370 

Orellana,  Francisco  de,  the  discov- 
erer of  the  Amazon,  470  et  seq.; 
not  disloyal  to  his  chief,  Gonzalo 
Pizarro,  474 

P 

Panama,  city  of,  25-28;  old  wall, 
coast  of,  26;  cosmopolitan  char- 
acter of,  26;  future  importance 
of,  28 

Panama,  Isthmus  of,  rich  in  histori- 
cal associations,  1 et  seq.;  visited 
by  Columbus  and  other  early  ex- 
plorers, 1 et  seq. 

Panama,  Old,  27-30;  once  grandest 
metropolis  of  the  South  Seas,  29 

Panama  railway,  scenery  along,  6,  7 

Panoramas,  magnificent,  in  the 
Andes,  164,  165,  358,  365,  366, 
375,  376,  378,  408 

Para,  attractions  and  importance 
of,  506  et  seq.;  future  of,  511, 
512 

Paranapura  river,  scenery  along, 
422  et  seq.;  Indians  along,  426  et 
seq. 

Payta,  present  and  past  condition 
of,  115;  prospects  of,  116;  con- 
templated railroad  from,  to  the 
Amazon,  116,  119 

Paz,  La,  view  of,  173;  population 
of,  174  et  seq.;  culture  and  hos- 
pitality of  inhabitants  of,  185- 
189 

Pizarro,  Francisco,  at  Gallo  Island, 


36-38;  burial  place  of,  247,  248; 
Southey  on,  248;  character  of, 
248,  251;  cities  founded  by,  250; 
capture  and  execution  of  Ata- 
hualpa  by,  335-337 ; not  the  mer- 
cenary character  so  frequently  de- 
picted, 454 

Pizarro,  Gonzalo,  goes  in  quest  of 
the  Land  of  Cinnamon,  472;  not 
deserted  or  betrayed  by  Orellana, 
as  usually  supposed,  474 

Plantains,  abundance  and  divers 
species  of,  495 

Plateau  of  Ecuador,  barrenness  of, 
82  et  seq. 

Porto  Bello,  former  important  port 
on  Caribbean,  2 

Potosi,  marvelous  silver  mines  of, 
183,  184 

Puchero  and  other  Peruvian  dishes, 
350,  351 

Puna,  island  of,  45,  46 

Pima,  elevated  tableland  of  Peru 
and  Bolivia,  150 

Q 

Quichua  Indians,  as  distinguished 
from  the  Ayamaras,  202 

Quichua  language,  origin  of,  284; 
by  whom  spoken,  229,  384;  al- 
leged relationship  of,  with  Old 
World  languages,  285;  literature 
of,  232  et  seq. 

Quito,  description  of,  100  et  seq.; 
former  isolated  condition  of,  101 ; 
beauty  of,  102;  education  in,  103, 
104;  astronomical  observatory  of, 
104,  105 

R 

Railway,  Oroya,  trip  on,  127  et 
seq.;  highest  in  the  world,  151 


540 


INDEX 


Rainbow,  superstitions  regarding, 
297,  298 

Rains,  tropical  suddenness  of,  400; 

abundance  of,  402,  403,  405 
Relations,  closer,  between  North  and 
South  America,  necessity  of  culti- 
vating, 522,  525 

Resources,  natural  of  South  Amer- 
ica, and  future  possibilities  of, 
519  et  seq. 

Rio  Negro,  origin  of  name,  499 
Riobamba,  account  of,  73,  74;  view 
from,  74,  75 

Rioja,  chief  industry  of,  382,  383; 
abundance  and  variety  of  fruits 
of,  383;  equable  climate  of,  384 
Roads,  Inca,  96,  317  et  seq.;  fictions 
regarding,  326 

Roosevelt,  President,  and  the  Pan- 
ama Canal,  19;  on  the  sanitation 
of  the  Panama  Canal,  22;  inter- 
est of  Peruvians  in,  437;  cham- 
pion of  ship  subsidy,  521;  on 
development  of  our  merchant  ma- 
rine, 522;  on  necessity  of  culti- 
vating closer  relations  with  South 
America,  524 

Rubber  industry,  in  Iquitos,  488, 
490;  at  Manaos,  499;  in  Bolivia, 
502 

S 

Sacsahuaman,  fortress  of,  225,  228 
Sanitation  of  the  Canal  Zone,  21, 
23;  of  Guayaquil,  52,  54;  of 
the  Amazon  valley,  509,  511 
Scientists,  German,  achievements 
of,  in  Ecuador,  60,  61 
Ship  subsidy,  necessity  of,  for  se- 
curity of  South  American  trade, 
521,  522 

Sierra,  meaning  of  word,  301 
Sillustani,  necropolis  of,  199,  200 


Sodium  nitrate,  deposits  and  value 
of,  142 

Soroche,  effects  of,  132,  134;  cause 
of,  133,  134,  149,  150 

Steamship  Company,  Peruvian, 
splendid  vessels  of,  135 

Soul,  the  lost,  story  of,  435,  436 

Stars,  superstitions  regarding, 
among  the  Incas,  164 

‘Strait,  Secret  of  the,”  and  Chris- 
topher Columbus,  12;  and  Her- 
nando Cortes,  13 

Sugar  cane,  in  Ecuador,  61;  in 
Peru,  290  et  seq. 

Sumaumeria,  forest  monarch  of 
tropics,  465 

Sun,  Children  of,  209,  210;  favorite 
resort  of,  213;  achievements  of, 
228  et  seq.;  hope  of,  240;  com- 
munism of,  343;  music  of,  233, 
364 

T 

Tambo  Mayo,  pueblo  of,  349,  351 

Tapajos  and  Rio  de  la  Plata,  con- 
tiguous sources  of,  505 

Temperature,  low  on  the  highlands 
of  Ecuador,  65  et  seq.;  experience 
of  Alvarado’s  soldiers  with,  67, 
69 ; in  lowlands  along  equator, 
424 

Termites,  colonies  of,  389;  marvel- 
ous activity  and  organization  of, 
390 

Texeira,  Captain  Pedro,  voyage  of, 
up  and  down  the  Amazon,  439  et 
seq.;  importance  of  to  the  Portu- 
guese, 480 

Thomas,  St.,  legends  regarding,  170, 
192 

Tiahuanaco,  ruins  of,  189  et  seq.; 
legends  concerning,  191,  192;  an- 
tiquity of,  193,  197 


541 


INDEX 


Titicaca  lake,  description  of,  151  et 
seq.;  fish  in,  154,  155;  legends 
and  traditions  concerning,  155  et 
seq.;  early  printing-press  on  shore 
of,  182;  moonlight  excursion  on, 
162,  164;  view  of  Cordillera 
from,  165 

Toribio,  Santo,  Apostle  of  Peru, 
253 

Travel  in  tropics,  safety  and  com- 
parative ease  of,  515,  516;  equip- 
ment for,  and  hygienic  precau- 
tions necessary,  516,  517 
Travelers’  tales  regarding  tropics, 
225,  312,  413,  518 
Trephining  among  Indians  of  Peru 
and  Bolivia,  206,  207 
Trujillo,  former  glory  of,  270;  fes- 
tivities in,  251,  252 
Tumbez,  at  time  of  conquistadores 
and  to-day,  114 


University  of  San  Marcos,  when 
founded,  254 

Ureos,  lake,  reputed  treasures  in, 
2D,  212 

y 

Valverde,  Vicente,  Bishop,  death  of, 


on  Island  of  Puna,  46;  and  Ata- 
hualpa,  334 

Varzeas  of  the  Amazon,  492 

Vegetation,  tropical,  surpassing  in- 
terest of,  496 

Venta  Cruz,  visited  by  pirates  and 
buccaneers,  10 

Vilcamayo,  river,  source  of,  202,  203 

Virgins  of  the  Sun,  temple  of,  in 
Cuzco,  223;  temple  of,  in  Caja- 
marca,  328;  true  character  and 
occupations  of,  329  et  seq.;  Polo 
de  Ondedargo  on,  332,  333 

Volcanoes  of  Ecuador,  75  et  seq.; 
ejection  of  fish  from,  Humboldt 
on,  88,  90 

W 

Wafer,  Lionel,  on  monkeys  of 
Panama,  8 

Y 

Yankee  peril,  Secretary  Root  on, 
523 

Yurimaguas,  head  of  steam  naviga- 
tion on  the  Huallaga,  438 

Z 

Zodiacal  light.  See  Light,  zodiacal 

Zone,  canal.  See  Canal  Zone 

(2) 


542 


Date  Due 


Sir 

3 2 '45 

&PR  2 < 

i 1999 

<§) 

